creepy

... "I got your address from the phone book at the library..."

I'm updating my google calendar and I hear THAT (see above). CREEPY. That's Me Trying by William Shanter.

I am such a google calendar whore. SERIOUSLY. I've just spent a ridiculous amount of time making calendars (for ucce, for barestage, for me). This almost measures up to the Berkeley Bowl love. Or perhaps I am fickle.

every day...

I say tomorrow will be different. But my project is unprogressing, my research untouched. But I did reach my goal of getting up this morning. Maybe tomorrow I will get up and do something productive. One small goal at a time, maybe it'll be reachable this way.

I need to decide if I'm going to be self-conscious about my singing or not. I should just audition, I know all the people... does that make it better or worse. I want to be better more than I want to get in, so hopefully they'll understand that.

People think I'm silly this, determine for yourself: I'd rather not do PJC because I'm not good enough, than to not do it because I chickened out and didn't audition. Is that weird? Is it masochistic to want to be rejected?

I'm fairly sure I understand the situation now. I just wish everything could be validated and we can all move on. I do love them all though. Somebody asked, "Do you still like him?" My response, "It's irrelevant, isn't it?" It doesn't matter if I do or don't. I can't, and therefore, won't. It's just a matter of time before I get there. Where do we draw the line anyhow between caring about people and liking them, anyhow? Does it matter if they can or if they like you? Shouldn't it be outside of that completely. But if it is, then what keeps people from being hopelessly in love with certain people, or does our practicality kick in to stop us from wasting our time? Oh, and don't say "He just likes you." [insert pause] "Not like THAT." Scary-ness.

In the good news department, I think I'm caught up in karma. Thank goodness.

College is such a precious time bubble. I hope I allow myself to enjoy it while it lasts.

Sleep. Wake and embark on the adventure that is tomorrow.

goals..

I need to fix this now.

Apparantly it's easier to be disciplined than motivated. I WILL get up and go to class tomorrow, regardless of whether I feel like it or not, regardless of whether I'm awake enough or not. I WILL be there.

a jumble of thoughts

The only thing that will make me stop doing what I do is something I don't have enough time to pursue (precisely because I'm doing what I do). A Catch-22 like none other.

Side note: I fell silly using that phrase when I haven't read the book. I'll add that to the must read list.

Currently reading: Troubled Sleep, by Jean-Paul Sarte
Currently listening: From the Bottom of My Broken Heart, Britney Spears (pandora.com)

I hate making campaign speeches. They make me feel like I'm in middle school. Everybody is qualified.

I just had the most depressing conversation ever. I don't really know what to do about it. I don't hate you at ALL. I love you and am just concerned and worried now. I hope everything works out.

I don't judge.

Really. I may not sympathize if the only reason you're suffering is your own fault, I still feel bad.

Note to self: don't volunteer to do other people's jobs especially if it's going to be in the morning. Don't be late when working with certain people, cuz they're never late and then they make you feel bad. Not because they try to make you feel bad, but because you do. When you know somebody is right, at least on some level, it's so easy to take things personally, and I don't think I normally take things personally, but it's been bugging me. It's ridiculous. I don't really mind talking to people when they're buzzed, but drunk? I just worry. And then I'm afraid they're going to fall over. I feel bad for leaving Sarah to take care of everybody, but I really needed to sleep. Which I did. TEN HOURS. It was amazing. But I'm still tired. Now I'm just sort of spewing. Okay. I'm done.

ALUMNI CONCERT TONIGHT! Mark and Bill are singing a duet. It will be fabulous.

honestly?

don't talk to me when you're drunk. Or if you do, stop when I ask you to. I don't want your hands on my face telling me I'm a wonderful person. I don't need or want that. My sense of self isn't that non-existant. Don't tell me what I want or what I deserve. I thank you for your confirmation, but you're not granting me anything because it's not yours to grant. I do not want your pity. I'm more concerned that you're [edit: being unclear] to me than you don't reciprocate. Come on now. I can handle more than that. that

and... different person, in case you're keeping track. I think that was a fairly low blow. In case you wanted to know what I thought.

perfect.

just perfect.

Three more shows and my wrist is not a happy camper already.

Maybe if I tell enough people, it'll become real. I am going to write this paper even though I don't really know how to. It will be decent. I am going to eat food and probably not sleep tonight. I will have fun tomorrow.

Here goes.

I will...

... be more productive tomorrow.

But, given today, that should be easy enough. I'm sorry I'm not handling everything well right now. I will do better. That's the best I can do. I can't promise to care, but I do promise to care more.

My mother and sister are coming up on Saturday. Oh CAL Day. Two tables. Two shows. Another show to worry about, which I am hopefully sending my sister to. An after-party to maybe crash. We'll see about that. At least I can drag my wonderful roommie.

There will be a forthcoming entry on my wonderful roommate who pretty much saves my life every day. When she doesn't save it, she just makes it infinitely better.

I can see the tribute entries coming.

HAHA who does this remind you of: what is the color when black is burned? what is the color?

if only...

I had papers more often. I'd COOK. Time to start working. (::snickers in background::)

I'm done being lame now. REALLY. Two hours of it yesterday was plenty of lame-ness for me.

Paper paper paper.

Wow. I'm already counting down the minutes until I take a break and go on a sugar overload from 7-11.

Sadness.

if I sleep tonight...

... I'm going to kick myself. Hard. In the shins. (oh wait... that's a line from Melissa's play)

I need to stop writing nonsense. Or maybe I will, just because I can.