Chau, ches.

This summer has been so surreal. Someone hit the pause button on my life and I don't like it ( Read more... )

The late June night so soft one can, in retrospect, forgive America for everything.

My advisor in the Spanish department died yesterday. That's two Gettysburg deaths in three months. I ache.

Enjoy work, robot.

I am so bored my eyeballs are about to fall out of my head, just so I'll have to think about how to put them back in.

All I want to do is move to DC and live in my Dupont Circle apartment and think of ways to get college kids digging The Studio Theatre.

The higher the ups, the lower the downs.

I think I hear the fat lady singing.

I've applied to ten jobs in the past few months and haven't heard back from any of them. I'm so afraid to graduate ( Read more... )

There are some people in the world who I could talk to for hours, for days, nonstop, and still not tell them everything I want them to know or understand everything they have to tell me. But when they ask me what's on my mind, all I can say is

"Oh. Nothing."

St. Patrick's Day is never a good day for me.

I'm going to start to get busy again. I can feel it already creeping in. And before you know it, this semester will be gone, eaten away by obligation after practice after rehearsal after class after whatever else kinds of things suck up my time here. And then that will be it.

I'll be old.