maybe not 10:30.

But certainly 11:30, at the latest.

I have finished the revision process.
I need to write introductions to both of the portfolios.
One of them is mostly done, and I need to go back to my room to get the instructions for the other.

But I'm in pretty good shape.
I'm not feeling frantic or rushed.
Personal deadlines are a good motivator.

The promise of a nap after I finish all of this is also a good motivator.
As is the plan to go to Chipotle tonight!!


I don't think I ever mentioned that I had been seeing the ghost of Greg Fox during the past month.
It seemed like every other day I would see someone who looked like him.
But then I would remind myself that Greg was at Oxford.

I walked into SG this morning and he was one of the first things I noticed.
The real Greg Fox, returned to North America.

Of course, I have never actually spoken to him in my life, so it would be weird for me to welcome him back and ask him about his semester, right.
Yes, it would. So I'm not saying anything.

And I'm working on this portfolio stuff, and he's talking to Chester.
So it would be very, very strange.

But, if by some unexpected stumbling you, Greg, find this post, I welcome you home.
And I really would enjoy hearing about your semester at Oxford.

Of course, I could just read your blog.

Now, back to my normal, not awkward at all writing.

revising.

for at least one of my LIT227 essays it has turned into a rewrite, adding a secondary source and restructuring the argument with a clear thesis.

I'm sitting in the hallway, waiting for the caffeine to kick in and for the words to flow.
I'll probably make coffee in about half an hour.

and I'm planning to stay up until I can get into the computer lab to print everything and put it all together.
I want to turn these things in by 10:30.

This is what I get for not following my schedule.
I wrote out what I was going to do for every day last week.
I had "revise essay" on there about five times, and I didn't do it at all.
So now it's Sunday night (Monday morning), the portfolios are due at noon (nine hours), and I have no desire to write.

Two and a half left: Illegal Immigration for PHIL150, and "The Torment of the Dream" and "Odysseus' Women" for LIT227. I'd say it's going pretty well. I've got some mint tea, some Landon Pigg, and my favorite laundry room smell.

that's all for now.

I can't solve your problems.

[This is going to be a thinly-veiled, completely selfish rant.]

Two of my friends just started dating.

I have been waiting for them to date for months.

They're pretty great together.

Several weeks ago, the guy dated another friend of mine.

He broke up with her, and I've heard her side of the story several times.

She never got over him.

She came to my room about an hour ago, upset that the guy started dating someone else.

She was hurt, and I understand that.

But I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

For the past couple of weeks, I have invested hours in this girl's life.

I have listened to her complaints of heartache.

But, quite frankly, I'm sick of it.

She is still in love with the boyfriend who broke up with her last fall.

She wouldn't admit it, but it's far too obvious.

Almost every conversation we have ends up being about her.
I can start telling a story about my life, and it always comes around to her love life.

I prefaced this by saying that I was going to be selfish, so I don't care how this sounds:

I just want to talk about me sometimes, maybe for like, two minutes.

Granted, she did listen to me tell two stories tonight, without interjecting.

I appreciated that.

But she seemed bored, like she didn't want to be listening.

And they were very good stories.

I climbed through a window at a professor's house yesterday.

(We had permission to be there, but the key didn't work.

And we really needed to get stuff from his basement.)

I love this girl like a sister.

I care about her.

But I don't want to listen to her talk about this anymore.

I've heard it and I understand and I've tried to empathize.

But because I've never been through it before, she won't listen to me when I tell her she needs to let it go.

She's just sick of being hurt and lied to.

"People will let you down," I tell her.

She doesn't get that I have been let down.

Just because I haven't had my heart broken in the way that she has, I'm not completely ignorant.

I don't know what she expects me to do for her.

I can't take all of her problems, in addition to my own.

God alone can fully understand, and I am clearly not God.

That's how I'm feeling right now: frustrated, annoyed, selfish, and helpless.

my birthday: the way I see it.

it's not that exciting.

Cassie made a big deal about it in psych today and everybody sang to me.
And I just sat there, not knowing what to do.
it seemed like everyone was more excited than I was.

I don't feel different.
I don't feel older.
it's pretty much just a Tuesday.

it's not even a good Tuesday.
I stayed up late last night, trying to finish reading a book for world lit.
then I got up early to meet with my advisor.
I tried again to finish the book.
it's my project for the afternoon.

yep. I'm going to spend my birthday reading a book that doesn't interest me.
I think that once I get into it, I might enjoy it, but as it is, I feel defeated.
my birthday doesn't mean that I get a break from life.

maybe today means something more to the people who remember that hot Saturday.
because I don't, it's just the day that marks another 365 and 1/4 rotations of the planet.

so, it's April 6, 2010.
I was born 19 years ago.

hooray.

(but happy birthday to Landon and Kris and Emma and Alex and Natalie and Matt Kitsos' wife and everyone else who is celebrating one more trip around the sun. I hope you all don't have such a bad attitude about today.)