Okay okay, I have not fallen off the edge of the planet. I've just been busy. Yes, busy, that's right, but of course by busy I really mean not all that busy but preoccupied with doing fun and relaxing stuff. If I'd actually been busy like stuff that absolutely requires doing, exam, school, etc, then I'd have been blogging like mad, since I've learned that it's a fantastic way of procrastinating. Which bring us to know. See now, I actually am supposed to be doing some of that all important stuff that needs doing (aka studying for finals I have to write Monday and Tuesday), which means naturally I have loads I feel like blogging about. Isn't procrastinating fun?

Oy. My brain is full of little fragmented bits that aren't exactly well integrated with one another just yet. The little shard currently holding my attention wants to comment on the fact that it seems as of late that I am turning into a bear, since my idea of fun has come more and more to resemble finding a cozy place to hibernate. It's just like to more I have to deal with - people, life, anything - the more my head hurts and the less capable I feel of dealing with anything. And I already feel pretty damned incapable as of late.

I know I have not been a fun person to deal with - thanks C. for putting up with me, one of many reasons you're so loveable - I just don't quite know why. I feel like I'm walking uphill the whole way, know what I mean, like I just can't possibly accomplish enough to just be fucking happy. What I actually want from life has shrunken dramatically in the past few years, and yet every year the future seems more daunting.

But then again there are bits of me that are normal, coherent and cheerful. They're the bits that say things like "gee girly, you're lucky C. didn't smack you and send you home. Why do you have to push your luck like that? Why can't you just be happy that he loves you now and stop freaking out about what you want him to do with his life? Why can't you just be nice to the boy you love?" and the miserable little voice snaps back "because I'm no good at it." But thankfully the normal, cheerful voice can usually dominate and thus I get to spend lovely, lazy, languorous days lying around in bed with C. without a care in the world. I'm sorry I keep destroying those moments love. I'm sorry everyone. I'm not usually this insecure. Not for the past few years anyways. There are holes in my disguise. I feel alarmingly fragile but simultaneously destructive.

And my interest in French and geography continues to wane.