Good Morning. It's 1:00 pm, I love college sometimes.
What an interesting, drunken night.
Rereading my texts are always nice... watching a guy throw up in a cup right in front of you, not so nice.

I really want to get my tattoo redone. Get some colors in there to mix it up.

Short blog post.

Gotta shower, get the bar smell outta me, and head to Statistics.

I'm ready to get out of here. It's hard for me to make the best of things when I'm stuck in this goddamn drafty, lonely dorm room. I've realized that my closest friends are the ones at home. Sure, I've got some good ones here... but it hasn't been enough to get me by lately.

AH my problems are irrelevant. I make a big deal over little problems. I shouldn't even be talking about this right now.

"... it smells like an old civil war museum in here."

I can't listen to Ben Folds without feeling a bit weepy. Sad, but true. That's what past relationships do to you. You love these amazing artists, then suddenly a stupid boy takes them away from you because you aren't emotionally stable. Yacchh.

I got a 44 on my Spanish test. I don't care.
Spanish is my major too, and I still don't care.
I've been in this constant state of nonchalant epic, lazy blah-ness, for lack of more intelligent words.

Let's see what I did in English today... doodled. What do I do everyday? Dream, draw. That's it. Thank god I'm taking 2D design next semester. That'll save me.

I'm lonely here in my single room... the first floor caves of Parkhurst. Everyone in here with the exception of Kait, Kat, and Chelsea, sucks. Maybe I'm just not social and cookie-cutter for everyone else. Or maybe I don't give two shits? Maybe.

I'd laugh hysterically if someone I know actually reads this. Good luck...
Well, I'm off to illegally download some albums and bust my butt at the gym.

Mazeltov.