Ah the paradox of having a blog; when you’re busiest there’s never time to write, and yet when you’ve got free time there’s nothing to write about.
I’m happy. Maybe not a change of pace, but a nice sustained reality. I had an amazing birthday, probably the best in my life with the exception of that time I got the princess jasmine costume (you know, from Aladdin?) and then did impromptu belly dancing with my little sister who was in a tutu.. But I was 9 and gosh, those were the days. Sadly, a whole ten years later, I’m sated with a nice dinner in a pretty dress with my pretty date and then drinks with my pretty date’s pretty friend.
I went out tonight with Jordan, saw Andrea, had some good times and tried not to feel too awkward in a busy club with lots of bass-heavy music and paint fumes. Maybe I just don’t understand the point of going out when there’s not a lot of dancing and/or lofty conversation involved… I did manage to cleverly insult some random drunk boy on the street. But maybe I shouldn’t brag about these victories?
Finals are finally over, they didn’t go spectacularly but I didn’t fail out either, so now that the semester from hell is over I can go back to being an upstanding student. Things should calm down now that I’m healthy and my life makes sense again.
December is a difficult time of year but there have been relatively few major mishaps thus far, and I think I made it through November unscathed. The summer months have been cruelest to me this year, but I think I’ve got that issue worked out for the time being. I’ve been having strange dreams again but nothing like August and the months between.
I’m leaving for New Mexico soon, and then will be home for a small number of days, and then at a debate tournament in Texas. Sounds like a party, no? Anyway, I’ll get to see my neice and my sisters and mommy and aunts and uncles and grandma and everyone else I haven’t seen since well before I left for college. I’m just not the sort to keep in touch, and they’re not the sort to come to me. The wind blows us together every 4-5 years.
Apparently I am the only person I know who talks to my mommy 2-4 times a week. I don’t really know what we talk about, but these conversations definitely occur.
I’m too bored to insert the appropriate links. Look them up and then think of your own witty tags. It will be a "choose your own adventure" sort of blog entry. For the part where I leave to do something more interesting, skip to the next line. To dally in my presence longer, skip to line 1. For a witty double entendre, skip to the page with the madlibs and pick a noun that will verb the poker game.
All I want to do is dance