At the moment, I'm calm enough. My eyes hurt and my tummy is rumbly, but I'm warm and the room is dim and my kitty is laying on the bed next to me, the dog curled up on the floor, so maybe things are all right. Seven days. I'm counting. I'm sick of being aimless and useless here and never feeling like I've done anything with my days. At the very least, when I'm at Reed, if I've done nothing truly productive, I know I can go play pool or read or find someone to go downtown with me and waste time there. Someone will always be around to talk to you and the bed is always there for napping. I can't even sleep here because I'm not actually tired. I wish I had some big thing to take up my time until Tuesday at which point I'll pack like mad and try to calm down until my flight.

I deal very poorly with not having a schedule or lots of responsibilities that require organization; vast amounts of free time scare me.

It's too cold to go on a walk. Maybe I should anyway. I'll sit sadly on the swing set and wish for my lost childhood- I'm nineteen in three weeks. I really cannot imagine such a thing. I know it's not actually old, but it's definitely toward the end of an era. Eighteen was still just barely an adult, but at least in technicalities and numbers, nineteen is legit.

when i am missing you to death

There are some amazing people in my life. Together as a threesome, Kyle, Amanda, and I are the funniest people I know. We fit.

mmm. A Perfect Circle is in Oregon in April, but not Portland. Darn them.

I'm distracted now. *sigh* I didn't really have much to say anyway.