The day before the begining (a.k.a. just another day)
Tomorrow classes start up again. It feels like weeks since they have stopped, not a mere two days. On the other hand, looking at what I've gotten done, mere minutes have passed. I've really botched math. It's an impossibly long string of numbers that cries "this is bunk!" Fortunately, it is actually silent, which is nice.
High point of the day: Ani Difranco. Isn't she always? Also, realizing my journal is looking pretty good. I've amassed a lot for it (quality not withstanding).
Low point of the day: feeling like crap with this new "veggie cram" thing. I feel terrible.
Low low point of the day: not being able to write paper I should have written last week, and knowing I won't be able to write it until the day it's due (night before, whatever)
High point of yesterday: Harold and Maude. Walks at 2am. with the absolute perfect temperature. New music.
Low point: Shirt that didn't fit quite right. Yeah, it was a good day.
Oh! High point: getting a letter from an awesome friend who writes like I'm there. Low point: writing back. Too much thinking.
Low point (I just can't seem to stop now, it's just much easier than writing full complete sentances in chronological order, but perhaps I'll get through the entire weekend this way): being called a heathen and then, "oops, I didn't mean to call you that." Typing doesn't work like mouths: it's much slower and you see the words come out. You can't exactly accidentally type people bad names without a conscious effort. Being called intellectually deficient by a boy who can't hold up a conversation, much less do anything meaningful besides playing video games. On the other hand, it was rather funny for all of us to be called that by him.
I love the way the rain feels outside, hiting you uniformly with these little splashes that remind you that each centimeter of your skin can feel things, not merely keep all your organs from globbing on the pavement. The way the drops look, not like spheres but streaks, constant motion. The illution that no drop ever ceases to exist in it's downward path, even though you are seeing another drop. Like death: people just keep on living, and so it is easy not to see the invidual drops hitting the ground, because you are looking up at the next ones falling. It rained today, if that wasn't clear. I am not completely random, that actually had something to do with the day. So says me, anyway.
Question: Why must barfing hurt so damn much? Isn't it enough that it is disgusting? I hate the feeling so much. The pre-barfing nasea, stomache wrenching, simultaneous hot and cold, the brain freeze, the feeling that every last part of you hurts in whatever way you lie, right down to the act itself: the burn, the helpless pain down your GI tract, and most of all the empty feeling. It feels like you are being depressurized from the inside, and the rest of your body is stretching to fill in the hole, but can't.
That, though, was completely random. I haven't barfed in about five months, and am very happy for it. I suppose I'm trying to disprove the "don't now what you've got 'til it's gone" thing. Preemptive pleading for that not to happen any time soon.
Hope you are all feeling healthy. It makes all the big problems in life so much worse when you feel like crap. I'm glad all I've got is a tiny stomache ache. I feel damn lucky. And post-workout muscle ache, which is so rare for me I adore it so much. I should workout for that reason alone.
