Posted: Sat Oct 28, 2006 6:23 am
*checks zeroguy's rank*
*assumes he's talking about something else*
*assumes he's talking about something else*
Philotic Web
An Ender's Game Fan Resource and Community
http://philoticweb.net/forum/
Dear Diary/Journal/Bob 3.0
Page 4 of 132
Posted: Sat Oct 28, 2006 2:12 pm
Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze me.
Posted: Sun Oct 29, 2006 2:42 pm
Dear Bob,
I am beginning to think that I have an unhealthy obsession.
Sometimes I don't think of him, but he's never really gone. I don't know him, I didn't know him, it's been years and I should be so far past over this. When I say years, I mean four. Four years, Bob, is more than a quarter of my life. It is not fair that this storm hasn't blown over yet. I will never speak to him again and probably if I did once I wouldn't want to another time because I would screw it up like I screw everything else up. The problem is that I haven't had that one more time. I never really had a first one, except for Janie always sticking us together for I don't know what reason.
He was interesting. He was a vegetarian with patches and earrings and green chucks. He was kind of cute. He had issues with his father that I never got to hear about in detail. Or maybe I did, but I knew him during that fuzzy time in my memory, and it's too fuzzy to see anything except those shoes and his earrings and yes, I said his name right. He got along well with Hannah, who is now completely, hopelessly lost. Is he? What does he do? I know he's at art school. Does he still love music in the same way that he did? When I have my license, am I going to drive up there just to find a phonebook and try to leave a letter in his mailbox? Because that's not, you know, sketchy or anything. If I wrote him a letter, what would I say? Does he remember me? Why can't I let go? Is there a magnificent, important, grand-scheme-of-things reason? Is there any reason at all?
I wonder about him too damn much and I'm starting to worry myself.
I am beginning to think that I have an unhealthy obsession.
Sometimes I don't think of him, but he's never really gone. I don't know him, I didn't know him, it's been years and I should be so far past over this. When I say years, I mean four. Four years, Bob, is more than a quarter of my life. It is not fair that this storm hasn't blown over yet. I will never speak to him again and probably if I did once I wouldn't want to another time because I would screw it up like I screw everything else up. The problem is that I haven't had that one more time. I never really had a first one, except for Janie always sticking us together for I don't know what reason.
He was interesting. He was a vegetarian with patches and earrings and green chucks. He was kind of cute. He had issues with his father that I never got to hear about in detail. Or maybe I did, but I knew him during that fuzzy time in my memory, and it's too fuzzy to see anything except those shoes and his earrings and yes, I said his name right. He got along well with Hannah, who is now completely, hopelessly lost. Is he? What does he do? I know he's at art school. Does he still love music in the same way that he did? When I have my license, am I going to drive up there just to find a phonebook and try to leave a letter in his mailbox? Because that's not, you know, sketchy or anything. If I wrote him a letter, what would I say? Does he remember me? Why can't I let go? Is there a magnificent, important, grand-scheme-of-things reason? Is there any reason at all?
I wonder about him too damn much and I'm starting to worry myself.
Posted: Thu Nov 02, 2006 11:24 pm
Not Found
The requested post was not found.
The requested post was not found.
Posted: Thu Nov 02, 2006 11:25 pm
*hugs Alea*
Posted: Fri Nov 03, 2006 12:08 am
*also hugs Alea*
Posted: Fri Nov 03, 2006 1:43 am
*hugs Alea as well*
... yes, i am back
... yes, i am back
Posted: Fri Nov 03, 2006 1:52 am
JOTA!!!
*HUGS*
Wow, you made my night.
*HUGS*
Wow, you made my night.
Posted: Fri Nov 03, 2006 4:03 am
*hugs Alea*
Posted: Sun Nov 05, 2006 9:40 am
Dear Bob,
I've been thinking lately about soul mates and destiny and fate and all of those words with such richness and depth, words that glide off my tongue as if they can't be contained, as if they're too large for my head and for my mouth and they have to escape, and once they do, once they're released into the empty space they can become real and tangible and contain substance and form outside out the constraints of my imagination. Or something.
And they whisper of promise and hope larger than myself and they're wrapped up in undanced waltzes. They're the sorts of ideas I've built my life on believing in, constructing complicated theories which end up boiling down to "everything that is supposed to happen just will, somehow". My version of logic is propped up on piles of chocolate and wrapped in fleece blankets. My answers to these unanswerable questions are comfortable and warm and enable me to not have to think too much about them with security, because their beauty lies in the fact that fate works best when it's left alone, unmeddled with, unhampered by brash choices and personal maneuvering. When it's stumbled into.
Inevitably all of it ends in dramatic climaxes in rainstorms and passionate kisses while red scarves billow epically in the wind. Right? I mean, when I'm sitting with my coffee on a Sunday morning, in my most honest state I can admit that that's what I'm waiting for, isn't it? And if a violinist doesn't happen to be passing that street corner that night I will always feel just a little cheated, won't I? I've always trusted destiny honestly, but warily. I make threats in my soul, I warn that I am willing to wait for disgustingly long stretches of time, but it better be for a reason, and that reason better involve violins. I make it clear with a clench in my gut that I am not afraid to hold a grudge against fate if all of my wishing and my waiting and my holding for something more and my trust in the lyrics of sappy songs and my visions fed by movies created simply to give girls something to create visions about all prove to be some sort of cruel, empty joke. And I hold a tiny part of myself back, something in reserve, just in case it does. It will be caustic and callus and cynical, but at least some piece of me will remain in tact if it was all just a lie. Maybe that's the problem, maybe it demands complete abandon, and little reserve forces locked away just aren't good enough.
I'm beginning to wonder if maybe all of my grand theorizing about love and soul mates and destiny and all of it is just a construction in my own mind, because it feels better to believe that in the end it doesn't come down to what I can do for myself. That I don't have to join the lionesses prowling bars in spandex, making rankings in their heads, measuring each man they meet against their own mental checklists, deciding if it's really even worth their time, if they could hook this one. Instead it's allowed me to believe that I can be the girl in the coffee shop reading Bronte and excluding the rest of the world, resting comfortably in the promise that when I finally leave the shop someone is going to bump into me, and as I go tumbling down I'm going to think "I know this scene, this must be it", and a hand is going to reach down, and eyes will lock, and my coffee will have been spilt, and so as a gentleman he'll be forced to buy me one in retribution, And one of a list of acceptable songs will play in the distance, and the opening credits will roll. These conceptions enable me to go about living my life without being constantly obsessed over what I have to make happen for myself in my own pathetic ways, because the best things are simply out of my hands.
When I was 5 I was obsessed with a game in which you played little chicks walking around a board trying to reach various hens sitting in various places. And when you would reach one you would hold your piece up to them and say "are you my mother?", and if the magnets inside the two connected, they had found their home. I'm beginning to think that maybe instead of my complicated theorizing, maybe all of this is just about each person having an unshakable, unspoken list of requirements, and speinding their life walking around holding that list up to each person they meet. Maybe instead of all of my talk about fate and destiny and violins, maybe it's just that the first person who matches what we measure them against is it. Maybe that's what falling in love is. And it simply is just first come first serve. And gradually we discover all of the quirks that define the person apart from the requirements we set for them, and we decide sooner or later whether this is going to be it for us or if we want to dust off the list and try again.
Maybe the truth is that you can't be Anne forever. Gilberts grow up. And they don't wait patiently for you to come around and get over your grand fantasies about what all of this is supposed to look like. And when they meet their Christines they don't just pretend, biding their time. They fall, enamoured, because that's what boys do, and it was time, and it's first come first serve, after all, and you didn't make up your mind fast enough. And when your Roy Gardner eventually does rescue you in the rain he doesn't fall short. He fits all of the lists you've made all of your life, and it really is just as beautiful as it should be. And there never is a haunting that it could have been more. And that's that.
Maybe the truth is that Gilberts grow up, and it's time you should too.
I've been thinking lately about soul mates and destiny and fate and all of those words with such richness and depth, words that glide off my tongue as if they can't be contained, as if they're too large for my head and for my mouth and they have to escape, and once they do, once they're released into the empty space they can become real and tangible and contain substance and form outside out the constraints of my imagination. Or something.
And they whisper of promise and hope larger than myself and they're wrapped up in undanced waltzes. They're the sorts of ideas I've built my life on believing in, constructing complicated theories which end up boiling down to "everything that is supposed to happen just will, somehow". My version of logic is propped up on piles of chocolate and wrapped in fleece blankets. My answers to these unanswerable questions are comfortable and warm and enable me to not have to think too much about them with security, because their beauty lies in the fact that fate works best when it's left alone, unmeddled with, unhampered by brash choices and personal maneuvering. When it's stumbled into.
Inevitably all of it ends in dramatic climaxes in rainstorms and passionate kisses while red scarves billow epically in the wind. Right? I mean, when I'm sitting with my coffee on a Sunday morning, in my most honest state I can admit that that's what I'm waiting for, isn't it? And if a violinist doesn't happen to be passing that street corner that night I will always feel just a little cheated, won't I? I've always trusted destiny honestly, but warily. I make threats in my soul, I warn that I am willing to wait for disgustingly long stretches of time, but it better be for a reason, and that reason better involve violins. I make it clear with a clench in my gut that I am not afraid to hold a grudge against fate if all of my wishing and my waiting and my holding for something more and my trust in the lyrics of sappy songs and my visions fed by movies created simply to give girls something to create visions about all prove to be some sort of cruel, empty joke. And I hold a tiny part of myself back, something in reserve, just in case it does. It will be caustic and callus and cynical, but at least some piece of me will remain in tact if it was all just a lie. Maybe that's the problem, maybe it demands complete abandon, and little reserve forces locked away just aren't good enough.
I'm beginning to wonder if maybe all of my grand theorizing about love and soul mates and destiny and all of it is just a construction in my own mind, because it feels better to believe that in the end it doesn't come down to what I can do for myself. That I don't have to join the lionesses prowling bars in spandex, making rankings in their heads, measuring each man they meet against their own mental checklists, deciding if it's really even worth their time, if they could hook this one. Instead it's allowed me to believe that I can be the girl in the coffee shop reading Bronte and excluding the rest of the world, resting comfortably in the promise that when I finally leave the shop someone is going to bump into me, and as I go tumbling down I'm going to think "I know this scene, this must be it", and a hand is going to reach down, and eyes will lock, and my coffee will have been spilt, and so as a gentleman he'll be forced to buy me one in retribution, And one of a list of acceptable songs will play in the distance, and the opening credits will roll. These conceptions enable me to go about living my life without being constantly obsessed over what I have to make happen for myself in my own pathetic ways, because the best things are simply out of my hands.
When I was 5 I was obsessed with a game in which you played little chicks walking around a board trying to reach various hens sitting in various places. And when you would reach one you would hold your piece up to them and say "are you my mother?", and if the magnets inside the two connected, they had found their home. I'm beginning to think that maybe instead of my complicated theorizing, maybe all of this is just about each person having an unshakable, unspoken list of requirements, and speinding their life walking around holding that list up to each person they meet. Maybe instead of all of my talk about fate and destiny and violins, maybe it's just that the first person who matches what we measure them against is it. Maybe that's what falling in love is. And it simply is just first come first serve. And gradually we discover all of the quirks that define the person apart from the requirements we set for them, and we decide sooner or later whether this is going to be it for us or if we want to dust off the list and try again.
Maybe the truth is that you can't be Anne forever. Gilberts grow up. And they don't wait patiently for you to come around and get over your grand fantasies about what all of this is supposed to look like. And when they meet their Christines they don't just pretend, biding their time. They fall, enamoured, because that's what boys do, and it was time, and it's first come first serve, after all, and you didn't make up your mind fast enough. And when your Roy Gardner eventually does rescue you in the rain he doesn't fall short. He fits all of the lists you've made all of your life, and it really is just as beautiful as it should be. And there never is a haunting that it could have been more. And that's that.
Maybe the truth is that Gilberts grow up, and it's time you should too.
Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 5:54 pm
Dear Bob,
I feel miserable. And all I want is a cup of tea, but I can't find a kettle anywhere.
~me
[Edit] Thanks to some lovely person with a coffee pot, there is now Earl Grey with a drop of screech in my life.
I feel miserable. And all I want is a cup of tea, but I can't find a kettle anywhere.
~me
[Edit] Thanks to some lovely person with a coffee pot, there is now Earl Grey with a drop of screech in my life.
Posted: Tue Nov 07, 2006 1:34 am
Dear Bob,
I'm getting a litle tired of voting advocates talking down to nonvoters. Getting up on a soapbox to encourage voting is fine, but they always treat nonvoters degradingly or as somehow inferior. Go home to your voting booth, and stop wasting your time on me.
-me
Dear Bob,
I don't drink, but I've yet to meet someone since I've come to college that is less fun when they are drunk than when they are sober. Hehe, drunk people!
-me
I'm getting a litle tired of voting advocates talking down to nonvoters. Getting up on a soapbox to encourage voting is fine, but they always treat nonvoters degradingly or as somehow inferior. Go home to your voting booth, and stop wasting your time on me.
-me
Dear Bob,
I don't drink, but I've yet to meet someone since I've come to college that is less fun when they are drunk than when they are sober. Hehe, drunk people!
-me
Posted: Tue Nov 07, 2006 11:14 pm
Dear Bob,
I really need to learn how to make friends and how to see them outside of class.
~me
I really need to learn how to make friends and how to see them outside of class.
~me
Posted: Wed Nov 08, 2006 3:19 am
Dear Bob,
I never get sick! Why now!?! Chills, nauseau, sore throat and congestion like wham.
Go figure, I'm stuck at work. And it's not like I can go home, since I'm the only freakin' person here!
Good times...
I never get sick! Why now!?! Chills, nauseau, sore throat and congestion like wham.
Go figure, I'm stuck at work. And it's not like I can go home, since I'm the only freakin' person here!
Good times...
Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 5:57 pm
Not Found
The requested post was not found.
The requested post was not found.
Posted: Sat Nov 11, 2006 3:36 pm
Dear Bob,
Today I was a model.
Can is doing a project for cosmetic design and marketing and so he took pictures of me for his final project. It was funny because he was using a girly-ish bedroom background that is a dressed up photo of my room. The project is going to be on display in the hallway and everyone is going to look at me. Most people don't know me, but they're going to look.
Ack.
Here is what it looked like and the picture he thinks he's going to use in his design (filtered and edited to death, thank god). I feel silly.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v649/ ... hoto45.jpg
love,
me
Today I was a model.
Can is doing a project for cosmetic design and marketing and so he took pictures of me for his final project. It was funny because he was using a girly-ish bedroom background that is a dressed up photo of my room. The project is going to be on display in the hallway and everyone is going to look at me. Most people don't know me, but they're going to look.
Ack.
Here is what it looked like and the picture he thinks he's going to use in his design (filtered and edited to death, thank god). I feel silly.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v649/ ... hoto45.jpg
love,
me
Posted: Sat Nov 11, 2006 3:40 pm
Dear Bob,
BOTH of my sisters are pregnant! Both! I can't wait till next summer. Yay babies!
JL
BOTH of my sisters are pregnant! Both! I can't wait till next summer. Yay babies!
JL
Posted: Sat Nov 11, 2006 7:59 pm
Wow, congrats! I'm so jealous...i want my sister (in-law) to have a baby. She was pregnant last year but miscarried. I have yet to help at a birth and I really want to.
Posted: Sun Nov 12, 2006 4:36 pm
dear bob,
why am i ALWAYS the only one putting in any effort?!?! what is the deal with all of my friends that they just expect that everything will be fine after they ignore and avoid me and blow me off week after week after week? how freakin' hard is it to return a phone call?!?!?!?!?!
i've been there, done that, bob. i thought we were OVER this phase. what s*** timing.
ugh.
why am i ALWAYS the only one putting in any effort?!?! what is the deal with all of my friends that they just expect that everything will be fine after they ignore and avoid me and blow me off week after week after week? how freakin' hard is it to return a phone call?!?!?!?!?!
i've been there, done that, bob. i thought we were OVER this phase. what s*** timing.
ugh.
Posted: Sun Nov 12, 2006 4:48 pm
Dear Bob,
There is no room in the fridge. There's a reason it seems like I don't live here. I don't. There are three people who live here, the fridge is overflowing, and the only thing in there that's mine is a dozen eggs and some cheese. That isn't right.
There is no room in the fridge. There's a reason it seems like I don't live here. I don't. There are three people who live here, the fridge is overflowing, and the only thing in there that's mine is a dozen eggs and some cheese. That isn't right.
Posted: Mon Nov 13, 2006 7:03 pm
Dear Bob,
Syntax has killed my brain. I can't seem to be able to do any other homework tonight and I can't get anywhere on it, either. I want to have a day to just let my brain rot and not even have anything that I should be doing. Just nothing. Only me and whatever else I feel like doing. Which, right now, is flopping asleep in front of a fire while watching a movie or something. Maybe with someone. Can I do that? Please?
~me
Syntax has killed my brain. I can't seem to be able to do any other homework tonight and I can't get anywhere on it, either. I want to have a day to just let my brain rot and not even have anything that I should be doing. Just nothing. Only me and whatever else I feel like doing. Which, right now, is flopping asleep in front of a fire while watching a movie or something. Maybe with someone. Can I do that? Please?
~me
Posted: Tue Nov 14, 2006 9:36 pm
Dear Bob,
This year I have gotten rid of so many yucky people and gotten to know so many more lovely people better. However, some of the new people that I don't know as well, uh, they have serious talk about how I am a minor diety and will melt their brains/make them disappear/drive them insane if they look at me while I give them "a look".
They call me mistress and bow to me and do the favors I ask with such ceremony and they tell other people about my magical powers.
And they grovel.
Like I'm going to smite them.
This is a strange feeling, Bob.
This year I have gotten rid of so many yucky people and gotten to know so many more lovely people better. However, some of the new people that I don't know as well, uh, they have serious talk about how I am a minor diety and will melt their brains/make them disappear/drive them insane if they look at me while I give them "a look".
They call me mistress and bow to me and do the favors I ask with such ceremony and they tell other people about my magical powers.
And they grovel.
Like I'm going to smite them.
This is a strange feeling, Bob.
Posted: Tue Nov 14, 2006 11:08 pm
Not Found
The requested post was not found.
The requested post was not found.
Posted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 12:30 am
Dear Bob,
I never thought that when I went to college I'd have to worry about getting shot in my own dorm. (Just airsoft gunfire, but still, it's like all the time.)
And getting used to a new group/organization kinda sucks in the beginning. It's still going to be a few weeks at least, I think, before I stop being awkward around everyone since I don't really know who they are.
-me
I never thought that when I went to college I'd have to worry about getting shot in my own dorm. (Just airsoft gunfire, but still, it's like all the time.)
And getting used to a new group/organization kinda sucks in the beginning. It's still going to be a few weeks at least, I think, before I stop being awkward around everyone since I don't really know who they are.
-me
Posted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 6:54 am
Dear Bob,
College applications suck. So do personal essays. I think that those suck the most. I mean, what the hell is with the 500-word limit? "Give us a sense of who you are--just make sure it's not more than 500 words."
What. The. f***.
Am I just wacky in finding that to be incredibly difficult?
The only thing that sucks almost as much as the personal essay is figuring out where to apply to.
And apps are due in about 10 weeks.
GRAGH.
College applications suck. So do personal essays. I think that those suck the most. I mean, what the hell is with the 500-word limit? "Give us a sense of who you are--just make sure it's not more than 500 words."
What. The. f***.
Am I just wacky in finding that to be incredibly difficult?
The only thing that sucks almost as much as the personal essay is figuring out where to apply to.
And apps are due in about 10 weeks.
GRAGH.
Posted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 7:28 am
Dear Bob,
First of all, *hugs Alea*
Second of all, I had a.... thing last night. I'm not sure what it was. It was almost like a minor anxiety attack, although I wasn't surrounded by people or loud noises or anything (the usual triggers). I just went from feeling fine, even happy, to feeling horribly uncomfortable and pathetic in a matter of minutes. Again, not an unfamiliar feeling, but it didn't make any sense last night. It was so sudden and so strong. Fortunately, a girl from one of my classes saw me and came over to talk, which gave me something other than myself to focus on.
Bob, I hate that feeling, but until now I've been able to predict the kind of situations that would trigger it, and avoid them, or at least prepare myself for it. I really hope this doesn't start happening regularly.
Thanks for listening Bob,
-Ozzy
First of all, *hugs Alea*
Second of all, I had a.... thing last night. I'm not sure what it was. It was almost like a minor anxiety attack, although I wasn't surrounded by people or loud noises or anything (the usual triggers). I just went from feeling fine, even happy, to feeling horribly uncomfortable and pathetic in a matter of minutes. Again, not an unfamiliar feeling, but it didn't make any sense last night. It was so sudden and so strong. Fortunately, a girl from one of my classes saw me and came over to talk, which gave me something other than myself to focus on.
Bob, I hate that feeling, but until now I've been able to predict the kind of situations that would trigger it, and avoid them, or at least prepare myself for it. I really hope this doesn't start happening regularly.
Thanks for listening Bob,
-Ozzy
Posted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 12:00 pm
Bob,
Someone made me happy yesterday, totally without a really good reason. I don't know why, but they did. It felt really, really nice to be so happy again.
And no, it was not anything relationship directed.
It maybe made me feel that one of these days, all of this depression will be over.
Someone made me happy yesterday, totally without a really good reason. I don't know why, but they did. It felt really, really nice to be so happy again.
And no, it was not anything relationship directed.
It maybe made me feel that one of these days, all of this depression will be over.
Posted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 12:07 pm
dear bob,
i can't WAIT til my roommate moves out at the end of the month.
can't f****** WAIT.
i can't WAIT til my roommate moves out at the end of the month.
can't f****** WAIT.
Posted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 5:04 pm
Bob, i'm bored.
I was given four days off this week and I feel like i've wasted every single one. In reality I got a lot done. I've finished some christmas shopping, watched two new movies, cleaned every room in the house at least twice, talked to some old friends i've been ignoring, done every piece of laundry I can find, called my bank and figured everything out there, and even went grocery shopping. I've done everything I wanted to get done in the past four days, but i'm still bored.
I would be out doing something but most of the power is out downtown and a tree branch the size of my car just hit my house. I don't feel like being out in that right now. I'm really hoping a tree dosen't fall on my house, because my room is the one by the small forest out back.
I guess it's just going to be another day of waiting for the wind and rain to stop while watching movies.
*sigh*
- nicole
Edit:
Back again Bob,
There is one cd I have that i've just gotten into the habbit of skipping one of the songs. It's not a bad song, in fact, it's one of the most amazing songs i've ever heard. It's just, it's that song. I wasn't in the room to press skip this time.
It makes me want to hate all music sometimes.
I was given four days off this week and I feel like i've wasted every single one. In reality I got a lot done. I've finished some christmas shopping, watched two new movies, cleaned every room in the house at least twice, talked to some old friends i've been ignoring, done every piece of laundry I can find, called my bank and figured everything out there, and even went grocery shopping. I've done everything I wanted to get done in the past four days, but i'm still bored.
I would be out doing something but most of the power is out downtown and a tree branch the size of my car just hit my house. I don't feel like being out in that right now. I'm really hoping a tree dosen't fall on my house, because my room is the one by the small forest out back.
I guess it's just going to be another day of waiting for the wind and rain to stop while watching movies.
*sigh*
- nicole
Edit:
Back again Bob,
There is one cd I have that i've just gotten into the habbit of skipping one of the songs. It's not a bad song, in fact, it's one of the most amazing songs i've ever heard. It's just, it's that song. I wasn't in the room to press skip this time.
It makes me want to hate all music sometimes.
Posted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 7:43 pm
Dear Bob,
I hate everyone.
Me.
I hate everyone.
Me.
Posted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 8:58 pm
Dear Bob,
My roommate is baking cinnamon buns. I really want one. The whole apartment smells like them. It's torture.
My roommate is baking cinnamon buns. I really want one. The whole apartment smells like them. It's torture.
Posted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 2:54 am
EL, since they have been unkind enough to bake them without your consent... or without inviting you at least, i suggest you use of proper retaliation: sneak up behind them and snatch a handful! 
Edited for spellnig
Edited for spellnig
Posted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 4:11 pm
Dear Bob,
I think I may be getting sick. Something is definitely wrong with me. My head hurts and I can't make my right eye focus, so its difficult for me to read anything, especially a computer screen. Worst time ever to get sick, thanksgiving is soon, I have a paper due and my interview for becoming a tour guide tonight...ahhh.
-Claire
I think I may be getting sick. Something is definitely wrong with me. My head hurts and I can't make my right eye focus, so its difficult for me to read anything, especially a computer screen. Worst time ever to get sick, thanksgiving is soon, I have a paper due and my interview for becoming a tour guide tonight...ahhh.
-Claire
Posted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 5:47 pm
Dear Bob,
Please, please make this semester slow down to manageable pace.
Thank you,
Student, Tutorer, and Study Abroad-er.
Please, please make this semester slow down to manageable pace.
Thank you,
Student, Tutorer, and Study Abroad-er.
Posted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 6:39 pm
Dear Bob
re: last night (early this morning)
DAMMIT!
re: last night (early this morning)
DAMMIT!