For some reason this weekend was absolutely terrible.

Working with a 40ish man who seems to me like he should be wearing adult diapers already is so nerve wracking, especially for seven hours while everyone else is having a super fun time playing your favorite game.

At least I got one unit of Sword Knights painted for Josh.  He seemed pleased, if not a little bewildered by the speed of my paint job combined with my excessive attention to detail.  Sometimes being a perfectionist can be nice instead of annoying.

I got nervous and couldn't go to the party.  I remember them.  I can see their faces.  I can see them snickering as I got my picture taken with Kelly (a beautifully tall basketball player from my high school who took me to the prom her senior year even though sophomores aren't supposed to go).  I can hear the comments after I came out to my friends at graduation.  I can hear the muffled laughter because even though I barely knew Dylan I couldn't stop crying when I heard he had been paralyzed from the waste down (paralysis is the worst thing that can happen to you after death and brain damage in my opinion).  I can imagine the awkward tension of standing in a room with them and I just couldn't take it.  I'm sorry, Briana.  I know you'll never see this, but I promise I'll come over when it's just you and me and Lacey and Emily and Janet, alright?  I don't want to see them, the evil drones of popularity that desperately tried to rain on my magnificent parade every single day at that damn school.  Fuck them, but not literally...except for Janel.  She was hawt.

I feel asleep on the floor after just one Mike's Hard Lime.  I didn't want to leave because I knew he wanted to keep playing, but I just couldn't stay awake.  I was so tired and felt so crappy from that stupid Steak 'N Shake food.  Jeremy let me try some raspberry Smirnoff and it was amazing.  I tasted like raspberry sherbet!  I was sad to leave, but I also didn't want to sleep on the floor like an idiot.

My little brother's birthday was wonderful.  I went home and watched Beauty and the Geek all day with my mom, dad, grandma, little brother and his girlfriend.  Aaron's cake was not a cake, but cupcakes arranged in a huge circle with a candle in each one.  I love my mother and her eccentric way of doing exactly what everyone wants before we know we want it.  My dad made his signature dish which he calls "River Fries" for a kind of brunch meal.  He also fried a bunch of bacon and sausage and my mother made waffles.  I hate waffles but everything else was amazing.  Later my mother made tacos for dinner, a dish I have not had at my childhood home for over two years.  I was so happy.  There were cats everywhere and I rolled with them and petted them and threw things for them to fetch.  I miss my cats.

When I finally got home I checked my e-mail and became instantly thankful that I am an engineer.  St. Patrick's Day brings about "E-week" because for some reason lots of people agree on some bullshit story about ol' Patty being an engineer.  I don't care.  All I know is that my professors get this strange soft spot right about now.  All my homework is pushed back and my test this Wednesday is two hours, open book, open note, open homework, and on the computer so that you can e-mail yourself any Excel spreadsheets you might need.  Anyone who fails it is a completely worthless moron.  You would quite literally have to try to fail.  Ah, pointless traditions, gotta love them.

So I guess my weekend hasn't been that bad after all.  Things could have been a lot worse.

I saw you look right at me.  I saw you push your glasses up your nose a bit as you turned away.  Were you smiling because my coat is absolutely ridiculous, or because you knew what I was thinking about you?

The feeling when I hold it up to the light and scan it with my eyes, understading it, learning it, making sure it's flawless, and imprinting it into my memory as a mother does her children, for she knows one day they will grow up and leave her home, that feeling is wonderful.  I can't wait to finish them all.  I think I'm going to skip the party.

Rewind:  Caloric Intake 3/7/08:  Ugh...too much.  We went to Steak 'N Shake and I still feel sick from it even this morning.  Remind me never to go there again for food.

Who am I kidding?  I can't help myself but write down nothing at all in the most elaborate way possible.

People watching is a hobby of mine that I do without thinking.  Perhaps it's more of a nervous aversion to whatever else I'm thinking about.

A sweet looking young lady wearing glasses was chattering and walking briskly behind a tall, blocky boy as I was walking up the stairs.  She kept running for a second to catch up with him, but never stopped talking.  It seemed like he was trying to avoid her, yet she didn't back down and she just kept blabbing and blabbing.  I know her.  She's me from high school, trailing behind my crushes wishing desperately that they would pay attention to me, if only for a moment and trying my best to sound interesting and knowledgeable.

At the bottom of the hour people were everywhere, milling to and fro and talking on their cell phones and smiling or frowning at one another.  For some reason my attention was drawn to the ratio of pants colors in my line of sight.  Lots of jeans, some black running pants, a few pairs of brown slacks, one khaki pair of cargo pants and my favorite, on pair of bright pink velor pants.  I then imagined all the pants talking to one another.  All the jeans were just chatting about mundane random things that had happened during the day.  The black running pants were questioning each other about total mileage and protein shakes.  The brown slacks were discussing religion and politics like it made them sound intelligent and important.  The cargo pants stared longingly across the sidewall at the pink velor pants, wishing that the unrequited love between them could be expressed.  Oh, pants.

Why are girls so beautiful?  I look around in my classes (and if they weren't bitches I would absolutely date them), in restaurants, at movie theaters, and pretty much anywhere I am and I am always gifted with the sight of tiny, skinny young ladies in pretty tops and nice pants with cute things in their hair and amazing glasses on their faces.  I want one of them.  I want to hold her and tell her she is beautiful.  I want to take her out to dinner and run my index finger along her jaw.  I want her to smile at me and really be happy.  I want her to love me and never leave me.  I want her to be my female everything (since I already have a male everything).

But then I look at myself and know it's never going to happen.  I'm not desirable enough.  I weigh 130 pounds and am only 5'3".  I buy my clothing at the Goodwill.  I speak gruffly and bluntly with terrible diction and a recurring rural twang (completely unlike my posts I promise you).  I wear no make-up and I have stupid hair.  Yeah, never going to happen.  Why is almost every nerdy boy I meet attracted to me and willing to give me his heart in a gilded jewelry box, but every girl I meet looks at me like some kind of freak show and wants to be as far away from me as possible?

Ugh, why I am so greedy?  I read that back to myself and remember that I have everything that anyone could ever ask for in a mate sleeping soundly back in my apartment.  Why must I have two, one of each flavor?  That's like walking around with two ice cream cones because you're that much of a glutton, or like drinking with wine in one hand and a cold beer in the other.  Either way you look like an idiot.

Some days everything seems to run together.  I don't mean the occurrences of the day.  I mean my entire life.  I mean that everything I've ever learned about anything all falls on top of me like hundreds of paint cans dumped on a canvas.

So I got the tutoring job.  I'll be tutoring other college students one-on-one in topics pertaining to the physics and chemistry classes offered here on campus and I'm pretty excited.  I hope I help people.  I like helping people.  It pays well but I would almost do it for free.  I love teaching others and promoting understanding of the physical laws of the universe.

As a formality I had to get a letter of recommendation that they could keep on file.  My heart skipped a beat.  I had an excuse to go see him.

For some reason when I call him on the phone it feels like calling an ex-boyfriend who I still have extremely strong feelings for.  His voices is the perfect blend of that manly gruffness that comes with age and that gentle fatherly tone that good professors always seem to have.  I gently knocked and his eyes lifted from his desk, ending firmly on what I assume was the rose coloring in my cheeks that I always feel is so apparent when I am in the presence of someone I greatly admire.  A tiny smile perked from the corner of one side of his mouth.  I dropped my stuff on a chair and took off my jacket.  The student at his desk seemed to understand that she should stay silent, lest she break the spell I had just cast by entering the room.  I walked over to him, standing above him like I had the right to.  I handed him a stack of papers I had been savoring because I knew I had to give them to him.  I requested the recommendation letter.  He instantly agreed.  He asked me how my semester was going and I responded with some idle chatter.  As I collected my things he gave me the tiniest wave and said, "It was good to see you."  I swear that if at that moment we were in an anime, millions of roses and sparkles would have radiated from my face.  I slowly shambled out, lingering to shut the door quietly.  What an old, grizzly, chemistry professor dreamboat!

I keep looking at the folded papers beside me and my iPod.  I know where I should be.  This is the wrong place.

Caloric Intake 3/6/08:  1800ish

Again between these concrete floors and stark white walls.  The fluorescent lighting feels as though it will burn through my skin.

Caloric Intake 3/5/08:  1500ish and some techno dancing

I have been told that I am an amazing writer more in the last few weeks than ever before in my entire life.  The question is would anyone read my writing if it wasn't online and free?  I highly doubt it.

Still, the kindness of those words carries with me through the day, instilling in me the feeling that perhaps I am not just another boring, generic human being doomed to walk this earth in relative obscurity.  I thank you all.

Everything seems so rustic, so strangely stained and browned with time.  Perhaps it is the shifting of temperatures in such a pendulum inspired manner.  Maybe it is the red bricks staring back at me every day.  Maybe it is just me.

I feel like I've been folded up carefully and stored graciously in a trunk for thirty years, and now I have been discovered and taken from my resting place.  The years haven't been kind, though.  While I was once a beautiful, delicate, pristine thing, I am now naught but a wrinkled, faded visage of my former self.

I have been told it is part of growing older.  Things get less meaningful.  Life moves more slowly.  Passion and drive slowly devolve into apathy and self-absorption.

The bed holds me down, begging me not to start my day.  The cold air bites at me and insults me for venturing out.  My hobbies nag me and whine constantly, asking why I don't seem to care for them anymore.  I often imagine myself held up in my mind curled in a ball in the dead grass by a small, moonlit pool in the middle of Autumn pleading with my consciousness to let me rest.  Must there always be something I have to be doing?

I enjoy this strange feeling, deep within my body.  It is the feeling of a stomach constantly hungry.  I like the biting jostle of the emptiness.  I like the tightness in my chest.  I like the ability to change my physical being in a noticeable way.  It makes me feel powerful and strong.  Healthy dieting is empowering.

It is strange slogging through the jungle that is my thought processes.  I find so many little treasures, only to have them slip from my pockets moments later.  The result is that when I finally find a time to sit and rest by a waterfall I discover that my pockets are empty and I am left with only the fleeting memory of what I found along my way.

I am afraid of so many things right now.  Feelings of inadequacy conquer me over and over.  I hate the word "declined" and the phrase "someone else more qualified" as they seem to imply that regardless of how hard I try, I am continually less qualified than everyone else and am therefore going to be declined my hopes and dreams until the day I die.  How can I continue to dream big when even dreaming small seems too extravagant?

I think I will return to my place, softly crying out inside my mind by that moonlit pool.  I think it is time to rest.

Caloric Intake 3/4/08:  1300ish

Have I ever told you how much I love painting tiny pewter men?  Well, I do.  Especially when I am going to get paid $100 to paint 18 of them.  I love random talents.

I also got an interview!!  ...but not from the company I wanted.  I just got a call from a man who, with desperation in his voice, practically begged me to come in and interview to be a tutor for math and science here at the university.  I set up an interview and anticipate another $200 every month.

Fortune (literally) has shined on me.

While playing Guitar Hero III today, I realized that I always pick the guy with the afro.  Then I give him that sweet military looking jacket with the frilly shoulderpads and then I turn the jacket white.  My male usually picks either the little Asian school girl or the God of Rock.  I believe that mundane choices often reveal a lot about a person.  Does that mean I want an afro and a huge penis and to be a super badass pimp?  Yes.

Urgh, I can't wait for this stupid period to be over.  I've purchased a maid's outfit that I'm going to make him wear.  He doesn't know yet.  Just thinking about it is amazing.

In the engineering building again.  He kissed me so many times before I left.  What he doesn't realize is that each kiss makes it that much harder to head out the door.  Or perhaps he does and that was his purpose.  I wish I could buy him a present.

Caloric Intake 3/3/08:  1400ish and some DDRin' for good measure.

I register for classes in two days and I'm excited!  12 hour semesters seem as though they are a cure for a majority of my college-based anxiety.  Fewer classes = less anxiety, conveniently and logically.  And the neat thing is that I will be graduating May '09 (right on the four year mark) even with these nice, relaxing semesters.  I swear that everything in my life works out without me even trying.  *knocks on wood*

I'm twitching with anticipation.  Will I get an interview?  I'll know for sure in within the next four days.

Is it weird to look forward to age 40?  I just can't wait to read all these entries again when I didn't just write them.  I'm sure they will sound so silly and frivolous when I'm 40.  I like when things are silly and frivolous.

There is only one window with curtains.  I want to meet her.

Ryan poked me with his umbrella.  I choose to take this as a sign that he has resolved to penetrate me at some point.  I can't wait to tell him no.

Everyone is concentrating so hard.  I wish their thoughts appeared in jumbled clouds above their heads, explaining everything they were doing.  I like to imagine these thought clouds swirling through a crowded room, mixing together into an undefined mass of mental thunderstorms, and raining words all over the floor.  I think this would happen during those awkward silences during conversations.  The tension would build until pieces of thoughts would flood the room and rush out the door like a raging river.

Two beautiful women were walking hand in arm to the doors of my apartment complex and I looked at their reflections as they reached the door.  They looked so happy and silly.  I often wonder how my female relationships would be different if I had been raised in Japan.  It always seems like females from Japan enjoy each others' company so much more.

I love walking by the journalism school on my way back from lunch as classes are getting out.  Everyone who pops out of the building looks so amazing.  Skinny jeans, skirts with tights, sexy glasses, and all with perfect hair.  I wish so deeply to be that fashionable.  Of course, I'll never be able to wear skinny jeans.  My pelvic bone is simply too wide and even if I was only skin and bones my hips would look ridiculous in those damn jeans.

A triumph today, while standing naked my breasts almost stuck out past my tummy.  Eating about 1300 calories a day will allow me to lose a pound a week.  Thus, in about two months I should be where I want to be weight wise.  I just want to lose a bit off the butt, tummy and hips.  DDR should help out immensely.  I love seeing results.  I don't own a scale because I don't care about the numbers.  I just want to look pretty to me, and no one else really matters.  He already thinks I'm pretty, so I've got no one else to impress.

Golly gee I'm in such a weird mood today.  This entry is all over the place and kind of without point.  Then again, that's just the way I am, all over the place and kind of without point.

Bwah.  I love the way Ryan sees me and even if I don't look at him or acknowledge him he still comes over and punches me lightly on the shoulder.

He still hasn't deleted my comment on his blog.  I thought he had a girlfriend.  I don't think she would be too happy reading that.  Then again, he might have just made her up to make himself feel better about being the way he is.  She might also just not read his blog.  I don't know.  I love this confusing little game I play with him.

I can't get over how undeniably lucky I am.  How can I ever be depressed in the least about little things like being late for a day of work or a friend's date not going all that well or forgetting that I had a test today?

Last night he made sandwiches and brought them to eat with me while I was at work.  He told me he was in love with me a bunch of times.  He told me I was beautiful.  There was something so gentle about him and so sweet.  He's like duct tape for any kind of sadness I experience.  I'm so incredibly lucky.  I want to buy him a present today, but I won't get a chance.

Girls are so elusive.  I swear all the good ones hide.