This time last year, I was helping Nick go through some weird shit related to his friend Joe and then (current?) boyfriend. Kare and I had discovered each other and got closer every day; like a confidante and a journal in one. Just another headlight prospect, just another character that'll end up in semi-autobiographical fiction.

I remember every detail of Nick's apartment, the surrounding area, like I'd lived there several years instead of a week. I've travelled back there in my mind a few times. All in all it wasn't a vacation. Too much stress and bullshit to really relax. But I enjoyed it nonetheless. I'm hoping to head out there before or maybe slightly after New Year's. Who knows.

The past is vivid because the present is pretty goddamned hollow. Holidays weren't designed for bachelors. There's a heavy mist outside and part of me wants to take advantage of the rarity, even if I photographed yesterday. But mostly I want to wallow, feel depressed, listen to Poe, and photoshop photographs. Food might help in an hour. Kabul (the afghani place) and the oh so mediocre Gino's are open. So it's an overpriced meal or an overpriced meal. The thought of cooking hot dogs or having a frozen enchilada is just too much confirmation of the whole alone deal. I feel like I have to do something to try to vaguely cheer myself up.

Apparently the number of suicides go up around holidays. I can understand where the people are coming from. Not that I'd ever kill myself--that's basically like giving everyone who loves you semi-permanent rat poison--but the loneliness really is magnified. I could call someone, but that isn't going to help. I'm vaguely motivated to try AIM just to see if Daniel or Selene are on...

Nope. But a chick I occasionally flirt with is. Or not. Eh.

In better news, Lisa and I finally finished that goddamned exam for Suzanne. Lisa got her section finished early today, so I walked over to the psych building around 4 or so. I shuffled through all of the students' sheets, made an excel file of their scores, merged it with Lisa's, finished the homework and extra credit files, and sent those all off to the prof. For a good 20 minutes, though, I had to hunt over my computer to find the final exam I'd saved. It'd been in the Temp folder within a folder within another folder you can't regularly access through the desktop.

Long story short, it's her mess now. I wipe my hands of that high maintenance horseshit.

I happy the whole semester is over. From here on out, I only need to take one class a semester. And Dr. C or anyone else who says otherwise is sorely mistaken. My second undergrad experience = done.

* * *

In terms of photography, I got a decent set of shots last night. Finished one up, should be posting that. I have about 20-25 others I need to post, but I can do the first ones first.

I was text messaging Hillary through a small snippet of it last night, mentioning how it'd be cool if she could see scene X. She wanted to come out if she didn't have obligation thingies, but I told her we could do some stuff soon. I sent off the picture I mentioned to her earlier today, but I'm guessing she's doing festivities and family stuff. I wondered today if I text her too much, but she'd tell me if I was. I just can't think of anyone else I've kept in more or less daily contact with since...well...college, I guess.

As an extended sidenote, she recently asked me to let her read this thing.

I'm guessing she might trip out a little at the sheer number of notes I have and call me an internet whore or something, but hey, for a good 2 years after college most of my friends were online. Granted I ended up seeing a lot of them in person around LA and in Detroit, but mostly I spent time working, interviewing for jobs, hobbies, not knowing what in the hell to do with myself, etc.

She has something of an antagonism toward the whole meeting people online thing, which could be why I haven't given her the URL yet, because the peeps I know are legion. I just don't get it. If it weren't for this place I wouldn't have met Nick, J, Tom, El, any of them. And I have yet to come across someone with the patience to synthesize a voice and use a fake picture to gang rape me.

Not that I judge her--it's her opinion, she's entitled--I just don't understand that opinion given the 'net saturation of our culture.

Then again I hate having long toenails with a passion, so no kettle-calling for me.

* * *

So it's decided. I'll have Afghani food, come back here, and stay mellow.

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