can I have this dance for the rest of my life

Firstly: saturn92103! Hit me up on AIM sometime - Moonbrat42 - I've remembered what so desperately needed to be shared with you the other night.

Spent the weekend in a photo essay black hole and perfecting my mah jongg technique. walkingshadow and I watched and whimpered through The Enemy Within - my captain! Imminent Apocalypse From the Tropics: Take Eleven is en route to us, even as Ivan still hasn't made up his mind about when, if at all, he's gonna drag his slacker self through our fair state. Seriously, as much as I love a good extended weekend, this can't continue.

Bought six shirts, caramel khaki pants, and new jeans at Old Navy for a whopping $105 and change. Got the check for the balance of my scholarship. Bought new jersey sheets, the happiest striped comforter ever, and a digital voice recorder at Target between playing Marco Polo across aisles with walkingshadow and Staci. Found out how many buckets of money I saved by buying my textbooks online. Got my paycheck early. Treated myself to Farah's. Somewhere in there, I hope things evened out.

( Have *got* to work on this nice thing. )

Earned my keep at work tonight, which is always satisfying. We still have no desk chief. This continues to irk the parts of me just itching to make the paper as good as ( I've known it to be. )

In fannish news, Lance played cards and got photographed for his trouble thereby making us all winners, JC is a big fashion whore who's about to commit himself to a term hopefully less than nine months from announcement to actuality with another one in the oven, Justin is at a creative crossroads and just wants his momma and his advance copy of Tiger Woods' newest golf game starring himself, the appalling lack of pictures from Joey's wedding continues to be a sore topic, which brings us to Lance having allegedly met Jesse at a club function sponsored by his frat in Orlando, which, whatever its veracity, is a fantastic story.

As depressing as this was to read, it's not something I'm not familiar with as of late. You can't play Boys II Men or Sarah McLachlan in the same room lest you wish me to go crawling into the nearest corner to cry.

On which note, you also shouldn't let me read transcripts of Spock's death scene and Kirk's eulogy back-to-back. Like Seasons of Love - *instant* tears, man.

After fielding some spam from a purported Leo McCoy, I'm off to edit more pictures. Because, love.

after I'm all out of reasons to run around

Checked out the bulletin boards around the J school after my tutoring stint in the writing lab this afternoon and jotted down addresses, Web sites, names and deadlines of newspapers looking for interns around the Southeast, all the while swallowing past the tightening knot of panic in my gut at the realization that after I'm done with school come this summer, my life will truly be my own.

( It came very close to those forty-five minutes I spent shaking and in tears in the cabin of a 747 around three in the morning about 2/3 of the way to France this summer. )

Finished Tourist Season. Someone patch my broken heart and make me not rage against the decimation of our fair state in the name of yuppie tourists.

I have things I should be doing, laundry and cooking and reading for classes. Instead, I'm sitting on my bed huddled over Photoshop and the angstfest of music that was 80s power balladry. It's one of those days.