You can stop freaking out now.

Mmmmm you guys. You sure have missed me, haven't you? Do I withold simply because I have nothing to say, or because, like Lucille Bluth, I get off on being withholding (and how do you spell 'withold/withhold' anyway?) I suppose you and I will never know!

Here's the thing, friends... I really have been incapable lately of providing you all with post-worthy material. Is it because I've taken to what can only be considered as the reverse of a diet, where I eat more than I should and sit inside despite the beautiful weather, wearing clothes that are far too "covering" for the season because, well, I'm uncomfortable with the way my body looks? NEVER! Is it because I have so much schoolwork to do and that I get so annoyed by any distractions (i.e. my blog and my roommate) that I stay holed up in my room and as far from my computer as possible? HARDLY!

... but then again, as some (or one) of you recently discovered, it is difficult for me to remain truthful in this venue any longer. My life needs fictionalization. It requires it out of mere pallatability.

So what do you want to hear, mon amis? That I recently went and saw Mo Rocca (of "I Love the 80's" and "The Daily Show" fame) speak about politics, deceased presidents, and the joys of wearing an expensive pair of fabulously bright red pants? That I recently recieved my official graduation approval from the university and as a result have become quite apprehensive about the uncertain haze that is my future? Or maybe you'd like me to go into detail about how and why I've been avoiding pretty much all human contact, electronic or otherwise, for the past several weeks (the answer to that depends upon individual circumstances, but rest assured that in some cases there is no "how and why" except for the fact that I haven't been avoiding anyone for any reason other than my own incompetence when it comes to answering phone calls, e-mails, and other basic forms of communication.)

Despite the depressing tone of the post so far, I really am happy. I promise. And I hate... hate... that you probably don't believe me, because I really, really, am. This is to those would-be-well-wishers out there -- things are well; I am on the road to something... something big. Maybe I just need my space. Who knows. I'm sure you all do, so I guess let me know if you think you know how I could better live my life.

Aside from all of this, let me tell you the things that I've done this evening since Jessica and Isabel left. After they left, I had a couple more drinks and then drove to Hastings, where I purchased Dancer in the Dark and an issue of Black Clock, yet another literary magazine that I probably won't get around to reading for a considerable amount of time. Then I returned home, made myself another few drinks and consumed them while watching Dancer in the Dark, which I've concluded is one of my favorite movies of all time (for the time being.) I can't persuade you to watch it, but if I could, I would. It is fucking depressing... but we all know that I don't think that "depressing" in art is always such a bad thing (though some would disagree with me.)

Does this allow my life to be art? Good art? Let's hope so.

I'm really glad that I'm in this Harry Potter class... it's really good to be required to go back and read all the books again. I'm rediscovering why I loved the series so much in the first place.

Anyway, these days I've become really sickened by some things in the world around (and distant from) me... sickened because they also happen to be traits that I've noticed within myself that disgust me. I would elaborate on my thoughts here, but I think it would affect the people it's not intended to and merely whizz by the consciousnesses of those who it is intended to. Should I make a little list? I think not; no need to single anyone out for being too like the parts of myself I hate.

I've again begun to feel that I am as intelligent as I will ever be, and that it is by no means as "intelligent" as I'd like to be. I have passions, but when compared to those of my compatriots and peers and whatever else they ought to be called, they are lukewarm, tepid passions. I am inspired by a lot of things, but the inspiration that these things spark within me never aids in the fruition and proliferation of great things within me as it does in other people. Is my problem sloth? greed? vanity? any of the other four? Probably.

Hahahaha... I really am laughing. Let's you and me hope for a better post tomorrow -- something more positive, something much less whiny. At least I have the out that I don't make it a point to read my blog. How annoying for you, huh?