The daily adventures and travails of one neurotic, klutzy, hungry, cynical college girl. Tune in for prizes! (offer void where prohibited. See office for details. Not responsible for lost articles.)
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Sunday, December 08, 2002
Maybe I want to be a lyricist. If I were musically inclined, I could write songs for a living. That would make me happy. I want to learn a new instrument. Maybe the guitar. I learned a few chords over the summer but they didn't last in my memory. I might still be able to play the piano and violin. (Ha! Fat chance...)
I just remembered something that had happened two years ago. (I'm so procrastinating at CLICs) My friend came down to SD to visit me and I was hurt because it didn't seem like she came to see me. I was just another check on her list. I may have been paranoid (since my insecurities can often flare up in melodramatic proportions) but my feelings remained the same. I don't know why I was so resentful that she didn't put me on the same level as I had her. It made me feel pathetic, I suppose. It was a difficult year for me. I was out of my comfort waters. Does that make sense? But I see now that it was all me. She didn't even mean to do what she did. And it doesn't even matter now, years later. It's weird to look back then. Even stranger to think of how I was back in younger days. I wouldn't recognize the preteen me. She was totally different. I don't think I like her.
Is anyone passing through Fontana during the Christmas break? Can you give me a ride home? I'm looking right at you, Eugene. (He doesn't even read this, I bet!)
7:02 PM
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