I went back and read a bunch of consecutive entries from earlier this month, and I sound like a total mood-swinging maniac. Which I guess I kind of have been. Lots of good and bad and good and bad, all at war in my head. Maybe it has something to do with always writing in the morning. Sleep churns everything up, and the same thing that makes crises seem better the next morning can also make things that were okay seem like crises the next morning. When did I become a morning person, anyway?

What really strikes me about the things I've written here lately is that this seems more like a diary of my emotions than of anything else. I think I used to record events here, and write about stuff from the past. But I'm not really sure. I'd have to go back and check.

I don't know. I feel... worn down and mundane. As a writer, not as a person. I don't know if that's why people stop keeping journals, or what. I feel compelled to write every day, or almost every day anyway. But then I don't have anything interesting to say and I feel horribly mundane and I feel like I shouldn't write. So. I don't know.

One interesting thing: I don't think Will and I can be friends. I tried. I said friendly things and I tried. I didn't want to just stop talking to him... I didn't want to explain. But he was so... snobby yesterday. He doesn't want to learn about anybody's music. Doesn't want to hear anything post-1975. He's a beer snob. He says horribly judgmental things about Thoreau that I get the feeling he doesn't really believe. I think he just likes to be a dissenter. I think he actually told me that a couple of weeks ago. I know I can do the same sort of thing, sometimes, just to get attention. Repugnant as that is.

But what kind of material do I have to build a friendship when he doesn't want to know anything about me? And he doesn't. So. Chalk that one up to failed attempts, I guess. He did introduce me to a few really good beers, though, so at least he's good for something.

I'll go take a shower. Less than a week from now, classes will be over. Then I'll just (just?!) have exams to worry about. And then, the day after exams, I leave for Seattle and the number one loverman in his particular postal district. Or mine, for that matter.

That is a very, very happy thought.