Bittersweet dirt off my shoulder
Someone please buy me an iPod. Or similar MP3-playing-device.
I need to have a portable escape from reality.
My idea of taking care of my body is to occasionally sit through an entire class without going outside to smoke a cigarette. I'm doing good.
I just spent about three minutes looking through all the options on the "mood" list. I picked sore because I didn't know what else to pick, and my neck is slightly sore. My damn therapist gave me this chart of feelings with little faces to accompany each word. She said I am not good at talking about my feelings, and a lot of this supposedly has to do with the fact that I have difficulty identifying my feelings. I consider this chart an intellectual insult. It's labeled with stupid, simple shit like "happy," "sad," "confused," and "lonely." I like to think I'm a bit more cerebral than that, that those simple descriptors couldn't possibly describe how I feel at any given moment. Where is the "metacognitive," "morose," "conflicted," "reclusive," "disconsolated," or "ensnared?"
Sorry, I'm being an intellectual snob right now.
Besides that, how am I supposed to pick just one feeling at any given time? Is there really anyone in the world who can describe his mood with just one word?
I'm thinking if I don't get back into William and Mary next semester, I might move to New York. It seems like a really good idea, and I have someone who will potentially go with me, who already has friends in the city. We'll see. Fredericksburg is kinda driving me crazy right now.
I know, I know: wherever I go, there I am. Geographic cures aren't really cures. But still.