Death by Milk and Cheesecake

It seems like a good idea at the moment, although I don’t believe that I have enough substances left to off myself. Pity. I’m in a bout of avoidance. Big Time.

(avoiding)

(avoiding)

(still avoiding)

Alright, Fine! It’s nearly 1am and I am only on question 18 of 24 in my “Literature of Science” worksheet that was due . . . last week. Suffice it to say I’m in trouble. I’m behind and my schedule just keeps filling up. I’m relatively busy, but I am also managing my time worse than ever.

I’ve been in a funk this semester. I think it’s the ambiguous question of what to do after graduation looming over my head that has me in its grip. Apart from getting another lead on a cool camp last week was everything a disastrous week should be. I limped for two days from a mattress-surfing accident. While amidst a pre-menstrual venting session (no longer recommended as therapy) I accidentally sent a message complaining about my roommate . . . to my roommate. After a ton of tears (all mine) I think she forgave me–I didn’t mean to say something mean, I was just frustrated and pmsing, true story. Haven’t screwed up like that in a long time. I think things are back to normal, but we don’t talk much so I’m not really sure. I think I was responding to feeling guilty for us not being involved in each other’s lives when we’re both really too busy and not already connected enough to care and put forth any genuine effort.

Training has begun. That’s a plus, but I’m not that serious about it yet, especially considering I just gorged myself on desert for the 7th time this weekend. And other people’s PDA, no matter how cute, still makes me want to run away and hide. (I spent way too much time with cute couples this weekend)

On the upside–the rest of my social life is fantastic. Relationships are deepening. Snowboarding the other day was phenomenal. Creation is glorious, and growing into the outdoorsy girl is everything I hoped it’d be.

It’s getting harder to tell people about the trip because I’m starting to feel like a broken record. Yeah it’s a big thing, but the more important things are the small things done with great love (Mother Theresa). At this point, I feel so spiritually dry that I can barely pray because I’m so absorbed with trying to pray correctly, without whining etc.

I blame 90% of the emotional nature of this blog on hormones. If you do not suffer as woman does once a month. Count your blessings punk and love her because she does not respond to every hormonal impulse, which would not leave most men alive.

Peace.

P.S. Anyone want to buy a scooter? I need to buy a real bike.