Feeling: Groggy
Listening to: air conditioning
Reading/Watching: You mean those swimming bugs on the page are supposed to be words? Zzzzdroool.

Just once, I would like to go a whole week without a major dramatic crisis at 2 a.m.

It never happens at a reasonable hour of the day. Never at 4 p.m. when I've just finished classes and have a good long while before I will need to do anything but just be there for someone. Never during the day. Never even at, oh, say 6 or 7 in the morning. I could handle that, too.

But before mid-semester break it was the attempted suicide. After, was the headache with Harry (and why does that phrase sound like a children's book?). This week, it's Collect Scattered Shards of Best Friend's Broken Heart.

Briana's air force boy is a weasely little ass. He gets back together with his ex, and when does he tell Bri? Not the next day, or even a few days later, but a week afterward, in a crowded car, when she can't do or say anything about it because everyone is right there.

It is a mess. And I didn't get to bed until after 3.

Gah. Stupid boys. Stupid, stupid, evil, cruel, sleep-denying, self-fulfilling-prophecy boys. (Just so you know, if you ever try to tell a girl "I lied because I didn't want to hurt you," I hope she smacks you across the face with a tack hammer.)

At least Wednesday afternoon I get to leave for the singing competition. Three days in Houston with my curly-haired freshmen girls, singing for NATS, complete with La Boh�me on Friday night. It'll be fun.

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