I got an A- on one of my English midterms and made it through my Stats midterm without crying and/or killing myself, so I consider today to be a complete success. For some reason, I am unbelievably exhausted. Usually I can handle myself on 3-5 hours of sleep -- not well, but I can get through the day without falling asleep whenever I blink, which is what I seem to be doing now. Today, it's just not happening.
I woke up to brokenhearted news from one of my newer favorite diarylanders who seems like a genuinely good person and she's no longer blogging as of a few hours ago due to personal trauma. It's so hard to care about something you have no control over, but I wish this person the best of luck and all the strength in the world to get through this.
I'm not really good at writing letters, but I've been keeping in touch with Joanna (who is in France studying to be a movie makeup person) pretty well. I tend to write the letters in class, which is the only time I can justify handwriting letters (though I'll dedicate an entire evening to a diary entry). I don't know if I would send letters to anybody but Joanna. Actually, I know I wouldn't, because there are certainly a myriad of people I could potentially write to but no one to whom I could say anything more than, "This is what I've been doing. So how are you?" With Joanna, it's like writing a diary entry sans fear of judgement. Therapeutic is what it is. I actually look forward to not getting letters back; it's like sending my thoughts into the world without really having any response, but just knowing that it's out there and that somebody else knows is enough.
Yesterday as I was driving home from somewhere -- dropping Aaron off at work, I think -- I got into that frame of thought where elation is the only thing circling my mind for a second, and then I frown thinking about how there's nowhere to go but down. I'm just no good at being happy.