AND IF MEMORY SERVES I'M ADDICTED TO WORDS AND THEY'RE USELESS.

Oh, the drive from Kalamazoo to Detroit at 9:00 on a Tuesday night with James, Cody, and Sami in the backseat is really just enough to drain every last ounce of my energy!

Feels good to be home....<3


Goodnight.

I come undone oh yes I do, just think of all the thoughts wasted on you

I still feel intoxicated. It is def still in my bloodstream.
I feel slow and clumsy, can't think straight, AND I'm zombie mode.

On that note, I'm gonna clean this dorm.

Like the fact that the smell of coffee in my hand after Global and International studies this morning was enough to wake me up and turn my whole day around. They said that would happen.

Then there's the fact that today I am so unnaturally busy, and it's not due to petty reasons like TANNING or getting my eyebrows waxed -- though both of those things do need to be taken care of soon. No, my day has been filled with stuff requiring a great amount of intellectual energy on my part...that or just stuff that makes me feel just plain sophisticated, I'm proud to say. I woke up and attended my Global and International Studies class. And I drank black coffee like my body depended on it. And I went to see my academic advisor for the sole purpose of being advised on what classes to take next semester -- I'm aiming for 5 classes, but that'd be 18 credits and THAT is not advised. See if I care. Now I'm back here in my dorm, listening to good music and doing my homework like a good student. I have a philosophy recitation at 2 and a philosophy lecture at 4. After that, if time permits, I'll get some dinner in before heading out to the what can easily be considered the most important part of my day: attending the public forum on Metro Transit at Kalamazoo City Hall in order to write my first news article for the Western Herald.

Truthfully, I'm nervous. I feel ill-prepared, especially since I have to go to great measures to adequately write this. What I wrote about in high school? How to not be the third wheel, for example...the epitome of any stupid story I may have written for the Legend. Hell, I wasn't even in journalism long enough to actually have a CHANCE to write about anything significant...or even get a general feel for what journalism is REALLY all about. Yet here I am, jumping into writing for a University newspaper, and my first test is today. I have a lot of confidence in my writing abilities, there is no doubt about that, but I have to admit that I'm slightly nervous about how the whole thing's going to go. I don't know what to expect, nor do I know what Fritz expects, NOR do I really have any idea how I'm supposed to approach the issue...let alone the people I'm supposed to interview.

I can only hope that it'll go okay.

I am writing about my weekend, my week, and my other weekend.
Just be patient.

( what a wonderful wonderful thing. )

Later, I will write about it.

I used to think writers were the best kind of people. You know...inquisitive. Ponderers. Feelers...AND thinkers. These days, though, I can't help but think that we're the worst kind of people...wasting our time trying to solve the unsolvable and justify the unjustifiable. I waste away hours of my life trying to figure out (through writing) why certain things are, and why certain things are not. But life is not linear. Life is not an equation...or several. Sometimes it doesn't add up, it doesn't divide right, it doesn't work out. Sometimes it just straight up hurts. And me? I always try my best to dissect it, every aspect of it, and come to a conclusion that'll make me feel better. Sometimes, I think I do an adequate job of figuring out myself and other people...but sometimes not. Sometimes I have days like today, when nothing seems right and everything's weird. When I absolutely hate humanity and am disgusted by the actions, or inaction, respectively, of other people. And myself, even. Because lately I've been going through this little thing that I like to call *identity crisis*. Where I apparently question who I really am and who I want to be...and then I question one more thing, and that's if I ever really knew who I was in the first place.

Because sometimes I just don't know. My personality is so multi-dimensional...as is life. That I have more than realized. And at this point I'm honestly about ready to throw my hands up in the air and say LET IT BE, I give up. Que será, será, and it's pointless to waste my time figuring out each and every little premise on which the events of my life base themselves.

When it comes down to it, it's all too complex. COMPLEX. Everyone and everything. It sounds so good just to say "HEY. YEAH, THAT LIFE? IT'S COMPLEX. JUST COMPLEX." and pass it off as that and never touch the problem again.

It's a good realization. Well....not good, really, but relieving at any rate. Truthfully, sometimes I feel like I'm in this abysmal complexity alone. Moments like that though, I'm just being ignorant. Who am I kidding? Life is complex for EVERYBODY. Everybody has, or has had, problems they cannot figure out, issues they cannot resolve, and pain that they cannot ease.

That's why I have a new philosophy in life. I'm quite positive that it's my best yet, and this is what it is:

Whatever we're going through, we're going through together. So don't be a closed-minded, insensitive jerk.
And while you're trying your best to *not* be a closed-minded, insensitive jerk, smile. And reach out. And love. And laugh. And listen. And try to understand, even if you can't. It really does work wonders :)

What to say about my weekend, what to say about my weekend...

Well, I definitely did enjoy it a lot. I feel like it was very productive as far as goes a comforting weekend home. You know; I visited people, lounged around, slept in my own bed, drove around the area that I am so familiar with. The Metro-Detroit area. We have a love-hate relationship, that's for sure. Every time I get back lately I think about how much I love and took for granted the Mile Road system. And other various things too, of course. Like, wow. 696 is wonderful. This Taco Bell on 12 and Hayes is wonderful. This neighborhood is wonderful. And familiar. And my bed is familiar and these walls are familiar and this shower is consistently HOT and not getting uncomfortably hotter every time a toilet is flushed. Get it? Detroit just understands me, and I understand Detroit. Kalamazoo I'm still figuring out...but that's okay too. Still, it's always so nice to see that Detroit city limit sign after an hours-long drive back from Kalamazoo.

Or, in Friday's case, FOUR HOURS. We sort of had a traumatizing ride home. Well, traumatizing might be over-doing it, but it was long and slow. For one thing, it was abnormally wet and rainy out and it didn't really ease up the whole ride home. That combined with 5:30 Detroit rush hour on I-94 made it hell. Hell as in going a mere 5mph when I was actually moving on that damn congested freeway on which I didn't feel free. Then I decided to take M-10 to "avoid" traffic and "save" time, neither of which were the case but that's really all I'm going to say about the drive home. It was tedious.

Upon getting back though, I spent some time with Andrea and Kristian, and then later, Kevin. We went on not one, but TWO Taco Bell runs, and helped a lady jump start her car and picked up Mario from pep rally, among other things. It was a nice night. Saturday was eventful too: There was Tower's homecoming game that I went to with Karley and Adam and more chillin with the Hatches and dinner with some of the fam: my grandma, my Neuna, and Nina. And after that I drove aimlessly, singing my heart out. It's just one of those feel-good things. Taking 15 Mile down to I-94 and driving and singing.

Sunday was another good day: I got Panera and Uggs with my sweet Greek grandmother. And after I got Panera and Uggs with my sweet Greek grandmother, I went to go see my scary, scary German Oma who would probably slaughter me if she knew I had $200 boots and instead prefers giving less materialistic things, like cookies. It was still a much-appreciated gesture, but that doesn't make her any less scary. That woman is crazy. By the time I went home it was about 4, and then all I did was get ready to go back to school.

And then Karley and I went back to school. We did have better luck getting back, but not *much* better; we still encountered dumb traffic that was first the result of an accident in Detroit, then later the result of I-94 closed down to just one lane like 20 miles outside of Jackson. And it took forever, too. Only god knows why they closed a lane...NOTHING was going on. No construction, no workers, no accidents: just 170 orange barrels serving as an obnoxious inconvenience to people trying to get where they need to go. Oh, Michigan. You're too much. But I still love you anyway.

Good weekend though, certainly. We'll see how this week compares :)

I wake up to find it's another four aspirin morning, and I dive in. I put on the same clothes I wore yesterday. When did society decide that we had to change and wash a tee shirt after every individual use? If it's not dirty, I'm gonna wear it.

--I'm Ready // Jack's Mannequin

So earlier today I wandered around WMU's library for nearly an hour...and I was quite ecstatic when I found ( this little gem of a book :) )

Honestly, I'm not sure what's more surprising: the fact that WMU's library has a book titled "NORGE BLIR EN STAT 1130-1319" that is written completely in Norwegian, or the fact that it was recently checked out...probably the latter; Waldo Library has absolutely everything. Whomever it was that checked it out, though, I am going to track down and give a big hug.

And that's it :)

K1: Are you playing bejeweled?
K2: I sure am!
K1:...Dude, don't you ever STUDY?
K2: Yeah, I just was.
K1: Then what happened?
K2: I got bored and hungry. So I started playing bejeweled and made myself some soup.
K1: ...that's a really great story.