That and sometimes it's just a matter of perspective. For me it's realizing I won't always be poor and I may one day have a real job.

Not being out of school until I'm near 30 should certainly have some sort of 'get out of poverty free' card.

Prelims are coming in less than a month. My new laptop paid for with Someone Else's Money (TM) comes in less than a month also. I need to finish a talk for a society conference and a poster for another one. Those should be easy enough, though.

Time for a bit of writing for the project.

...Ok I just randomly read through several entries in this diary, so the short time has passed. I will still go through the usual workout routine of 75 push-ups and around 150 tricep curls. Tricep curls hurt like a son of a bitch after even 50. I've kept off the weight I once had for over 3 years now. Granted I sometimes want to be thinner and more muscular, but Emily seems to think I'm too skinny as is. We take some odd pleasure in my being able to pick her up and hoist her about. This is a feat of some skill considering all of the crap in her apartment makes walking straight + carrying her impossible.

It's going to absolutely fucking suck when she leaves the state for a new job.

I get the impression she'd rather not do something long-distance. So that'd be that. In some of my crazier moments I've thought, "well I do love her (even if I've never actually told her because I'm supposed to wait until she tells me), so why the fuck not marry her?" Being the raised-in-white-society mixed race fellow I am, though, I wanted to first try living together, the plans of which fell through. I don't know if it'd last, but we're right for each other right now and that's a pretty good thing in this godless country of gang-bang-conga capitalism.

I remember once, laying in bed back in the old house I rented with Brian, and being so damn lonely one night I prayed like a motherfucker. I asked for the opportunity to date someone while I was here at grad school for 3 years or so, and that that'd give me direction and clarity for finding that red-haired Irish girl I used to dream of occasionally. In actually dating someone of substance, though, I found out dreams of clicked compatibility are silly.

I'm just rambling like days of old now. Synopsis: her leaving for a job will suck and leave me with a lot of free time. A lot of free time.

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