who wants a man in a nice suit?

Spent quite some time sitting in Metro last night, the place that hardly changes despite all those people every year. The crowd looks somehow more interesting, this semester. Kim tells me the three piece suit fellow is in a lot. He's of average height, with short blonde hair that curls slightly at the ends, solidly built, and in this suit, complete with pocket watch. (Which is just bizarre, knowing how hot it is right now) Kim says he is always dressed nicely. Sorely tempted to stun gun him and ship him off to one of my friends who might need a present.

Loaned my Russian textbooks to Kim, and we ended up doing laundry well after midnight, complete with chocolate cake and red wine. I had to call Gene and wake him, and surely he was not pleased. Must get this key situation straightened out in the next day or two to avoid such things. My red-haired Metro coffee girl love gave me a red silk shirt that is incredibly shiny and makes me feel very 80's. All that Shiraz and rocky road cake was probably not the best thing on an empty stomach, but we were vastly amused. Melynda enlightened us on peculiar moments of 12th century English history in the middle of all this, and it was grand.

Coming home at 3am made me disoriented, as time had twirled around itself. Am I sixteen or twenty two? Ugh.

sometimes I wonder why I bother with any of this

It is most clearly a bad day when the only job listing that looks vaguely appealing must be shot down because they want you to relocate to Kuwait. Not that I truly want to be an artillery turret mechanic, but it sounds much more interesting than retail work.

The job search is depressing, I need to wash clothes, hell I need to unpack and find clothes to wear if I'm going to attempt to find a job.

My father can't speak to me, but he can send me forwards. Nice.

I feel wildly out of place everywhere.

(no subject)

It's one of those evenings, where the "We're sorry, all circuits are busy" sends me into a rage, and the smiley face on the takeout Chinese food sends me into tears. I wish I knew what the hell caused this, and how to control it other than shutting off all my emotions.

My better judgement also seems to be absent these days. I wonder about myself. Someday, I will have to stop running from everything.

Susan called earlier, because the postcard I sent to her and Dean finally arrived. He's graduating from law school next year, and they have two boys. She invited me to come stay with them sometime, check out the university in Madison. I miss them.