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eredienMy parents are going to come with me to Boston to help me move in and "get the who, what, where, when, just as they always have." Oh, imagine my joy. Can we please clean the place up? Otherwise my mother will not let me stay there. (Honestly, I'd like it a bit cleaner, too. Just a little. I will be happy to help keep it that way.)
Consoling myself by looking for tickets to UK. Date set on 19th or 20th of December.
Don't care they don't think quitting job is a good idea. Don't care, don't care, don't care.
I really, really wish I could have dreams about topics other than:
- How much I miss Bryn Mawr.
- Dragons.
- Sex.
For the past two months, guess what? No other dreams! Occasionally, they start out appearing like they're going to be something else, but...nope. At least it's always the three seperately, and not together.
It's like my subconsious is kicking me, saying, "hey, you're repressed! Let's dream about stuff you've got major angst over so you won't go completely insane during the daytime!"
It's worst when I wake up, though; like a mental hangover. I am constantly shocked, then depressed, to see the walls of my own bedroom.
Can't do much about the first; that part of life is over.
Can't do much about the second; that part of life will get as good as it ever does when I leave here and am again free to express as much of that as I can in my daily life.
Can't do much about the third part except try really hard not to think about snuggling up to my friend Aaron--on whom I've had a low-level crush since highschool--when he shows me odd movies weekly.
Yay. Mental suckage. Hit self with metaphorical cinderblocks, block it out by writing as a dragon for twenty minutes with Rabidfangurl, maybe it will go away. Nope. Shit.
I will now go post as Hatori to Angst Anonymous.
Consoling myself by looking for tickets to UK. Date set on 19th or 20th of December.
Don't care they don't think quitting job is a good idea. Don't care, don't care, don't care.
I really, really wish I could have dreams about topics other than:
- How much I miss Bryn Mawr.
- Dragons.
- Sex.
For the past two months, guess what? No other dreams! Occasionally, they start out appearing like they're going to be something else, but...nope. At least it's always the three seperately, and not together.
It's like my subconsious is kicking me, saying, "hey, you're repressed! Let's dream about stuff you've got major angst over so you won't go completely insane during the daytime!"
It's worst when I wake up, though; like a mental hangover. I am constantly shocked, then depressed, to see the walls of my own bedroom.
Can't do much about the first; that part of life is over.
Can't do much about the second; that part of life will get as good as it ever does when I leave here and am again free to express as much of that as I can in my daily life.
Can't do much about the third part except try really hard not to think about snuggling up to my friend Aaron--on whom I've had a low-level crush since highschool--when he shows me odd movies weekly.
Yay. Mental suckage. Hit self with metaphorical cinderblocks, block it out by writing as a dragon for twenty minutes with Rabidfangurl, maybe it will go away. Nope. Shit.
I will now go post as Hatori to Angst Anonymous.
(no subject)
2/12/04 02:53 (UTC)It's a...two-hour time difference? Or just one?