I haven't been eating very much lately, but I have been drinking a lot of Ensure. I love that stuff. Last night Inna asked if I had an eating disorder and made me eat some yogurt. And today, I don't know if it was because of the nerves of having to do my performance jury, but I felt like I hadn't eaten in forever, which is sort of the case. Before I went off to my last voice lesson I drank Ensure. When I got home after that I took a nap, showered, and ate a chicken sandwich and some fried shrimp balls. After the jury and my appointment at Cowell I came home exhausted and famished. I ate half a can of vienna sausages, while toasting bread for a sandwich I was going to make. In between bites of sausage I ate sweet pickle chips, so basically I was eating while preparing a sandwich. My sandwich was massive and mighty and I enjoyed it heartily. Before I took it upstairs to my room where I always eat, I made sure to grab a bottle of drinkable yogurt and a minutemaid juicebox. After I brought those up, I went back down to get a can of Lay's Stax salt&vinegar chips and, sure what the hell, a bag of honey nut cheerios. The cheerios were the only thing I didn't touch, because after consuming everything else I passed out and when I woke up I had to brush my teeth and go to chamber choir. Right now I'm wondering if tonight deserves the last bottle of root beer that I've been saving.

Okay so maybe I've decided to open myself up to the realization that he's right, I really Don't need him to feel complete. Right now what I'm thinking is, because of all the unhappiness I subjected myself to, and let him take the blame for, I feel like he owes me one last happy day. That's why I wish relationships came with expiration dates, so that you can end it with a big bang, chug all the milk before it sours. Or even better: pour the last of the still-decent milk into a humongous bowl of cereal. And Cheerios at that. Yes, that would be ideal.

But now I've just lost myself in the metaphor. Isn't that what happens though? People let themselves get swept away by the abstract? The dream? If ever a woman had a man for a Dulcinea, he's mine. Quick! Someone grab a broken shaving bowl and dub me Lady of the Woeful Countenance. We'll cross our fingers and hope it doesn't stick. I think I shall like a gimongous bowl of Cheerios now. Ta.

I miss blogging, that's why I have decided that I want to start again. But now I keep a separate journal too, which is neat, and mainly for things that I wouldn't want to hear/see someone comment on. Something about my old Xanga prevents me from picking up where I left off There. Maybe it's the fact that people don't seem to care anymore. Or maybe it's just the fact that we're all in college now, and have made other friends (some more than others), or maybe I just couldn't stand not having my entries read and commented on, but whatever, I'm just glad I'm here right now. I don't think anybody will ever read this, but there's just stuff that begs to be said. "Why do I find it hard to write the next line? Oh I want the truth to be said," sang that dude from the 80's whose ears are either twitching or whose dead body is rolling around in his grave. Okay now I've totally gone emo and I might just delete this entry the next time it worms its way into my conscious. Over and out.