(no subject)
Weird. I hated running the mile in middle school and high school. I always got like 12 minutes or more. But now I've been running for the past week or so and if I don't do it, I feel like bleghegahrgghh. Plus my time today was 9:55. My best ever, but why am I such a freak of nature? I can not be happy watching twelve hours of Angel a day? I feel like I'm stuck in a little glass bubble of summer. Another month until the paperweight breaks. (I need to finish reading 1984.)