There's a dead man on my couch, won't somebody show him my door?

dread and longing, when in combination, yield a highly debilitating state.

dead man walkin'.

I stayed up late last night, watching movies, playing video games with people...


...getting hit on by guys...

...and this'll sound really wierd, given my liberalism, but it was unsettling. Not uncomfortable, but wierd, like I was just so bemused.

Wierd.

Anyway, I just feel dead right now. My whole back aches and I want a back rub or massage so bad that I'm this close to crying. Not just from the ache but the distance, you know? Noone here I'm close to, yet, so there's nothing to stake my tent to, so to speak. Just people from home that I can't talk to or can't stand to talk to or, for some reason, I just don't want to talk to.

And my eyes feel big and I feel fat and my nose is always dry. I'm just so horrifically, terribly average right now. Yeach. Not especially spiritual, flirty, debonnaire, intelligent, dedicated, funny, nurturing...just another random person.

It's odd that when you get out of high school, which has a reputation of being a college applicant factory, and get out into a (more) real world, I begin to feel less like an individual and more like a product.

Is that because I've changed or because everyone else has? Maybe I was just a really good product, and now a really poor individual.

Or maybe it's the food. The cafeteria food is horrible, especially the pasta.

I'm sitting in a friend's room, typing on his slow-ass but aesthetically perfect computer, and watching Mall Rats with a bunch of people I only sort of know.

I'm in the middle of a week of classes, looking at a bunch of homework, trying to get into the flow of things which includes fencing, swimming, classes, the aforementioned homework, Mario Kart double dash (which is ridiculously addictive), new friends, new enemies (this random jerk in philosophy who always manages to make my arguments or answers, relating to his latest question, relate to his previous argument and make me sound not intelligent, but merely argumentative), new people, in general, new abode, and laundry, and attempting to work up the motivation to lose some weight.

Oh, and I'm on publicity run-crew for the fall theater production.

But the thing is, I keep thinking about things that I should have left behind and forgotten. And I'm not really looking forward to going home. I think, perhaps, that I've ruined Eau Claire. For serious, I have very few memories of home that aren't tainted overmuch by worse ones or just plain experience.

So, moral is that I'm unhappy when I think, and a little lost when I'm not alone. Also, all my essays remind me of things. When was it when I stopped bullshitting and started knowing? I wanna go back to the bullshit; it was easier.