dare you to run

Procrastination has once again reared its ugly head, and I've had to really force myself to decide to finally go get the Honda's oil changed, go pay my traffic citation, and figure out the whole college-roommate-classes thing. It's going to be a pain, but it'll feel really good to be done with.

Getting new glasses tomorrow. Same frame, same lenses, just new frame. The ones that I have broke in the shower a while ago, so I kinda need them.

You know that thumpy, sick feeling that you get when you go on stage? Take that, but minus the exhileration. I've been feeling that, seemingly at random.

I'm really quite an asshole. I mean, I'm right most of the time...nearly all the time, at that, but I'm still an asshole.

It seems like something's just slipped through my fingers, and I'm in the slow-mo period between dropping it and it shattering all over the floor. Things have a tendency to cut you when you try to pick them back up, but I'm kinda locked into it. Not that that's bad. Not at all.

But I doubt anyone leans down to sweep them up eagerly. That's how you know, I think, that you're still ok; when you know you have to risk hurting yourself so you do, but you don't look forward to the process.

So don't quit.