and... okay?

Today I'm sad because I think it's more enjoyable to be sad than to be happy. Or at least it's more realistic. I'm not capable of denial. I'm hardly capable of white lying and ego driving. I don't think that latter phrase actually exists, but if it did, it would mean: bragging. I'm a rhetoric minor/major, I should be able to establish whatever kind of phrases I like.

Also, it's kind of funny to hover over yourself when your life gets a little ridiculous, though I suppose it has limitations. If I were truly sad, I wouldn't find summer boyfriend calls lasting greater than one hour ironic, for reasons I can't explain. (I'm probably not using ironic correctly here, dammit all to ice cream...) I wouldn't find a 4/15 on a problem set I finished in class just. I'd be horrified.

(in-text appendix: i'm listening to iron & wine and it's making me even sadder. who sings songs this slowly?)

Even spilling concentrated sodium bicarbonate on my hands and freaking out as it began to tingle looks funny if you remove yourself from you. (It's only baking soda and water, hindsight 20/20 tells you. and then you giggle).

Not being able to sleep for more than 7 hours anymore, when 8 hours used to never be enough, is taxing, but exciting. Did something serious happen to my metabolism?

My hair is falling out, my nails are breaking, and I can no longer see quite as clearly as I used to, when I could identify people across the quad (now I can't tell the differences between people I know even if they're 50 meters away.

This is sad. This is so sad. But it's funny in that I'm not crying. I'm not throwing a hissy fit. True, I have actively sabotaged my legs in such a way as to cause my body to slam against doors and jar my stubbornly stiff shoulder--just to teach it a lesson.

I couldn't tell you why I find sadness amusing. Maybe because it's so insignificant. Yes. I can't recall one good thing I've done all weekend (except throw an amazing party for a friend... that should have gotten me karma points, right?) Wrong, but laughing at myself is nearly as funny. I've laughed more today than I usually do. I wonder why? Potentially I'm lying to myself. Potentially I'm laughing to cover up crying. Probably not though. I'm not a crier. And that's not denial.

When I cry, I stop caring; I get over it.
But you shouldn't stop caring about life.
Hmmm... what to do what to do?

This really has no point.

Not life, really. Life has a point if you can make one up.

This blog really serves no purpose. But they're not supposed to, really.

I miss reading newspapers.

And yea, that's about it.