my internal clock is busted.
That is a photograph of what I want my house to look like when I hit the point in my life during which I lock myself in my home and do nothing but write. None of these pictures are mine, again, but I have a feeling they're more enjoyable than a multitude of photos of my smiling face.
I want ambient lighting and time to think. This morning I took an exam then went back to sleep and woke up to a phone call at 3:30 pm. I'm not sure what I've eaten but I just went out and bought some cheese sticks and some red bull and I'm spending tonight cleaning my dorm before going to sleep only to wake up early tomorrow for a doctor's appointment that I'm absolutely dreading and the beginning of a weekend that isn't really a weekend at all.
Yesterday I figured out exactly what course my life is going to take.
I am obsessed with my career. If you knew me in high school, I haven't changed in terms of how I can go into "newspaper mode" (a phrase coined by close friends) as quickly as you can say "print is dying." But this really intense feeling always overwhelms me when I hear friends say that they don't know what they want to do. It's something similar to regret, maybe? A weird inverted nostalgia? Either way, sometimes I wish I wasn't sure either so I could go through college like everyone else, unsure and discovering themselves. Maybe I still have something to discover.
More editing and trying to figure things out. Things are going, slowly but going going going.
You are my favorite.
ps. I am the real Loch Ness monster.