{5,2}
Hormones are *not* my friend. About a third to half of my worst terror stems from PMS. AT least everything makes sense now.

{5,1}
I'm so disappointed. Things had been going pretty well lately, despite my worry over certain things, and despite a day here and there of feeling crappy. I don't even know what happened. All of a sudden, things were Not Good. I don't even know why. And today I feel extremely bleh, and I'm extra worried. The people I need to talk to most have been absent all day, and probably won't be around later. I had such a fun evening, perfect really, until suddenly I wasn't having fun and I'm not even sure why.

I really have too much work to do this week to be feeling completely distracted and incapable. It's like something beyond my ability to control, this dysfunction. I was writing the Arts First email and remembering the little joke about Regret Always, and it's like that, it's always taking something perfectly good and having it fall apart.

{4,7}
The makers of the Food Groups cards never expected anyone would create a card game called "Beat the Meat" with them.

Waiting and waiting.

Relief again. Must have been the cold.

{4,6}
Finding out about a classmate dying shocked me and prompted me on a nostalgia trip through my senior pages. It's amazing to me how many people I just haven't thought about in a couple years. Also amazed me how many out of about 150 I didn't know very well or really disliked. But I remain pretty shocked about Yellott. Wow.

Come on, don't do this to yourself. Go to bed. Sleep. Don't think about it.

Dear losers: the University can come into your room uninvited, but you can't go into other people's rooms uninvited. The University can have events with fireworks, but you can't. The University can hold a party at any time with lots of booze in any building, but you can't without a party form. THE UNIVERSITY CAN DO LOTS OF THINGS IT DOESN'T ALLOW YOU TO DO AND BITCHING ABOUT ONE MASS EMAIL A YEAR IS IGNORING THE REAL ISSUES. Oh, not to mention I've received at least six unsolicited emails and two unsolicited phone calls from the PSLM during this whole debacle, and only one unsolicited email from the University. So stop being fucking hypocrits.

{4,3}
Today was the second amazing day in a row, and I'm all pink. It doesn't take that long outside to get all pink. But now it's all rainy like, but that kind of cool spring rain. Although I hear it will be getting a little too cool tomorrow. So it goes. It's nice now, though, because the people have their windows open, and so you can hear music and voices, and it almost feels like real college. If I knew anyone in the rooms in Adams across the way, I could yell at them.

I should have been doing homework, but I was doing some insightful and enlightening reading instead. Well worth my time. I'm not sure how much to believe... I mean, I've known pathological liars before, so I can pretty much watch out for any degree of exaggeration, elaboration, or fabrication. Corroboration with what I know suggests plenty of exaggeration and a good deal of flat out ignorance, but general plotline agreement. Which leaves certain issues controversial. Not that I didn't already have many of my suspicions about what was really going on proven at the time. But I suppose I will allow a certain amount of pride retention; I mean, who really wants to go about admitting that, not once, but twice or more, he or she has acted like a pathetic tool, a sobbing stupid wreck. Not to mention a manipulative jerk. A using creep. But I do know who got the better end of the deal, and that is where the exaggerations and the possible flat-out lies come in. Barrels of salt for all!

I suppose I should be hurt that I was eliminated from potential conversations about these things. But I suppose I did it to myself long ago. Oh well, that's past.

Gag me. As I told JD just now, it's the injustice to the whole world that makes me so irate and keeps me up at night. How can people who wreck and wreck and wreck just keep obtaining more to wreck?

{4,2}
The Magic 8 Ball keeps hedging. Ask again later. Concentrate and ask again. Better not tell you now. I think the latter should be, "Better not tell you. EVER. I mean, you don't really want to be thinking about this stuff, do you? You don't want to get hung up on the stupid way other people live their lives. You want to focus on where *you* can go with your life. So I'll just keep hushed up on this topic. You'll thank me later." I suspect Magic 8 Balls would have to be significantly larger if such messages were normal, however.

{4,1}
Ended up having a very nice evening. Friends exist after all.

Kitty-kat, prowl all you like, but get yourself home.

From last April 16th, in case anyone thought this spring has been particularly boring: "April is a terribly stale month. I keep hoping for some drama, but nothing comes up. No torrid romances, no twisted breakups, no ecstasy, no anguish." So there. I'd say this April is having its share of interesting.

And from April 7, 2000: "Life isn't so much unfair as, well, unfair." Nice to see things don't change.

Projects for today: put out flames of raging envy.

{3,7}
I was very productive today and had a lovely time hanging out with Justin, but I didn't have enough energy to go to the party in Leverett House with him, and I didn't have enough energy to do anything but watch a movie, which put me in a slightly better mood. I took a walk and solved the problem of where the buses go into Harvard Station and I giggled at the Living Wage rally still hanging out inside and outside Mass Hall. Freaks. I feel less catastrophic now. But still bleh.

Justin thought my idea of going home after graditation was a good one. It's sounding better all the time. Unless things really change here in Cambridge. But I don't think the things I would require to change will ever change.

Should have realized it wasn't going to be a round trip, that it was his escape into better company. A week and my weekend uses run dry. Saturday, the third weekend night crawling, too sad to drink, too down to move out into the world. World has all the saving power, and I can't even make it there.

{3,6}
I promised myself...

{3,5}
Ugh. The weekend again? Is it wrong to wish the weeks would go just a little slower?

In wonderful news, Jenn and I got our first-pick room despite being #22 in the draft for senior doubles... we got the undiscovered gem. The bedrooms and common room aren't as huge as many of the rooms, thank to the eaves since it's fourth floor, but it contains a closet that is currently being used as a fairly spacious bedroom. A CLOSET! There are, in fact, four boys living there right now. Can anyone say, par-tay?

{3,2}
Do I sense conflict? I'm not sure. I'm never quite sure. But I know how I feel, and it's healthy and wise.

Maybe being sort of open was a release. I feel released. I feel like nothing is a big deal. There is fun, and that's fun. There's indulgence, and that's indulgence. There's love, and that's love. And they don't have to be tangled up. And they don't have to be dramatic. And they don't have to be more important than they are. But the people are important, and you can't get around that, so you groove with it.

Here I am again, not really being productive. I've been so lazy today. And distracted, maybe by the nice weather. I got this idea in my head today that what I really want to do for a couple years after school is go back home and teach AP Psych at my high school and spend a lot of time doing independent study with the upperclassmen like Rautman did with me my senior year. And then I could do research at the University in my spare time. I'm not sure how feasible this idea even is, if they would let me teach a course that is in the course book but hasn't been taught for ages (unless someone is now, I have no idea) right out of college (which has certainly happened, but only in set courses like English) and only for a planned couple of years. But who knows. It's not the worst idea I've had. It would be a great place for me to work and still have lots of time to pursue my own interests. And it's at home. And I'm beginning to think I really need to figure out a way to not be here when I graduate, for a whole lot of reasons. I don't suspect I'd stay away from Boston forever, but I think I need the place to clear out a little first.

{3,1}
I had a really nice time last night, just hanging out. There is nothing to worry about. This here is all I need, and all I could ever want.

It's strange how assured I feel today. It's spring, and summer is coming soon, and that is always such a chill time of year. Chill is how I feel. I don't think it's apathy. Maybe it's optimism. God forbid.

I need to work, but I'm feeling distracted. Maybe undercaffeinated. Maybe at the crossroads. Things are kind of funny. Tomorrow I'm going out for tea with the one and only ex-boyfriend I've had at Harvard. That makes me think about the strangeness of categories... I'll expound on that momentarily. And I'm trying to decide who to ask to the Lowell formal... oddly, for me, I'm only considering freshmen. I guess I understand what the concept of "stale" means, once I start thinking about the upperclassmen I know. Or maybe it's just denial on my part, as my second-to-last year draws to a close and I start feeling obligated more often to think about The Future.

On categories... I go back and forth. They don't work, for the most part, but then again, they're important. It's important to delineate the people in our lives, even if those lines are much fuzzier in some cases than the categories would indicate. But where we draw the lines tells a lot about what we find important. Sometimes I wish the lines were easier. But that's asking for life not to be real.

{2,5}
The Crimson article ended up being fairly innocuous. Although on of the subheads in the printed version said somethings like, "Students plan to run the band." Oh no, how will students ever run the band? Gosh, is there a course I can take or something? It's what we've done all along, people!

So, I was on my way out the door for class today, late already but going, when I discovered it was raining. The thought of dragging my cold-infested body through wetness caused me to turn around and head for the warmth of my room. Although I do feel betetr today.

I gots ta do my taxes.

{2,4}
Hell throat has gotten so bad that coughing is causing my body to mistake the reaction for vomiting. Not pretty. I have the sense that the little lozenges aren't up the challenge.

So, the Crimson calls me today and catches me entirely off guard, maybe because I didn't expect my Band emails to ever become a press release. Pretty annoying. They never call when there's really good news to report, only when there's mildly ooky news. Goddamn Crimson.

Crimson surprised me maybe less than the email I got this morning. Pleasant surprise, really, and I finally had the chance to say what I'd always been meaning to say. It's nice to know that some people can escape; gives me hope for myself.

I'm just procrastinating all the work I need to do... Wednesday always has lots of potential because I don't have many classes, but then I always end up having random crap to do and don't get what I intended to do done. I always get something done, but it is just random. Yarg. YARG!

I should save my wrists for tomorrow when I start signing my name 3000 times! Yay begging for pesos.

{2,3}
So, after feeling great all day yesterday and meeting with Tom and six staffies and going to class and section and getting lots of stuff done, at night I start congesting right back up after a few days hiatus, and now I'm blitzed by congesto-crap again. I'm beginning to wonder if it's allergies. To relieve my Hell Throat, I bought some happy lozenges, but it says on the box that excessive use could have a laxative effect... well, what the hell is "excessive use"? Three in an hour? Half the box in an hour? I need estimates here, people!

Technology won't bring us together because humans have barriers in their minds.

{2,1}
Jenn came back, and we went with Danny to the Kong, and that made me feel tons better.

I have seven hours of work today... why did I pile all my hours on Sunday, when I know I won't get any homework done Friday and Saturday?

My dreams trick me whenever I go to bed angry. They portray my sources of anger in the most puzzlingly forgiving light, and in the first moment after waking, I feel that warm dreamy fuzz about the subject until I can wake up a little more and remember what's really going on. And then I'm just more annoyed that reality is far from the dreams.

You know, I often feel portrayed as a big, scary, unforgiving beast, but I think it's so simple to ease out of the shadow of my rage. I'm so easily flattered, and I'm so chronically lonely that a glint of real repentance meets with greatly positive results.

If it were a little warmer, I would really like this weather. As dry as I generally like the climate to be, I have to say I have some fondness for a foggy night, especially in the late spring (which is something like June in these parts). The lights do crazy things, and the resultant dreamy haze better approximates how my mind tends to feel.

Damn. Just damn.

{1,7}
So, I'm stuck here doing nothing and feeling miserable. But I'm learning lessons every day, oh yes. But wouldn't it be beautiful once in a while not to always take all the blame for everything, to have other people who claim to care about you take some responsibility whenever they take your trust and shove it. Trust with my word, trust with my worry, trust with my love. It's apparently shit, worth nothing. And then people wonder why you feel like you're worth nothing as a person except what use they can drain out of you. When they've kicked the integrity out of you, and then left you all alone, then they wonder how you could be so angry and so wary.

{1,5}
The beautiful thing about having class in Harvard Hall is that it has data jacks. I don't know why people don't schlep around their laptops more (okay, I *know* why, they're heavy no matter how light they are, and I'm an enormous geek compared to your average Harvardian), but I really enjoy being able to surf the web during my least brain intensive lecture.

Also good is that thanks to Daylight Savings, I managed to write most of my paper last night (I've never felt so awake at 3am), and I finished it easily today. Painlessness! Now all I have is a bunch of annoying response paper type writing to do, which just takes more time than the final product is worth.

I'm just trying to keep my mind busy these days with things like work because I get this very ill sense when I start thinking about my life too much. I feel the slinking isolation, which will only get worse if I look at it.

The three things you hope never happen: looks like I'm getting at least half of one.

Yeah but, periwinkle? No, no, no!

{1,3}
I can't sleep. I'm not sure why. It's April... maybe it's just daylight savings getting to me. Maybe it's because I'm finally getting over this cold, and going through NyQuil withdrawal (is that a scratch in the throat I feel... hmmm, there's still one dose left in the bottle...). Maybe it's just worry. Worry worry. And then it's April... although it feels like February, so I can be in denial about how fast the year is going, and how even though it seems like I'm working all the time, I'm still behind, and how estrangement is creeping in, and how sad the world can really be.... yeah, so that NyQuil...

{1,2}
Oh Christ, it's The 70s! You might want to take this one a chapter at a time so you don't hurt yourself.

{1,1}
Afternoon nap after daylight savings change highly recommended.

So, baseball starts today... IN PUERTO RICO!

I don't even know what to say... the magnitude of loss baffles me, an incomprehensible onslaught. And so I worry, but I'm not even sure how to go about that right now.

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