I am drained. I am helping Stephanie practice giving intelligence tests...I could do this stuff all day. I'm so competitive, I get this high....good times ( Read more... )

I'm supposed to feel better. I've talked it out. With myself, with my friends.

I'm over talking about it. I'm waiting for my friends to sit me down with a twelve step intervention plan.

I'm allowed to be quiet. I'm fine.

I've kept myself busy since the day it all went down. Painting at Timmy's, working late, class and bills. But last night I was left alone. Me and my thoughts-never a good combination ( Read more... )

...so she made one herself ( Read more... )

Cynthia tracked me down last night. I've not made mention of this gurl before ( Read more... )

It's an Aimee Mann, Brie Sharp kinda night ( Read more... )

...is one scene after another of chekovian irony.

And then I come home...to a Woody Allen movie. My western Lit professor was right about me. I need to stop watching this shit.

"Hey, it's your mother, don't you ever stay home?"

No, actually. I don't.

As much as things change, they always seem to stay the same.

However, this time, I'm okay with that.

My parents came this weekend. And, for the most part, it was a good weekend ( Read more... )

My boss is making us do a series of Myers-Briggs tests. This is my Keirsey Temperant Sorter II result. Eerie...and mainly true, though I never would have considered myself an "Teacher ( Read more... )