I guess I'm heading off for school tomorrow. I wish I had a little more time to spend with Phil and Kiwi, but my last week got eaten up by preparing for Jung Wu. He says his name with a very distinctive accent, so I feel like I've mispronounced it every time I try to say it. Sort of a Jzjung Wo(u). Or something like that. Seems like a nice kid. He's apparently very nervous- his left eye twitches whenever we talk to him. I wish I had more opportunity to talk to him about himself and Korea, but I feel bad talking to him for too long, because his eye starts to twitch. The house is a disaster, of course, but at least the disaster is now limited to just two rooms. Once we get the fake closets put together we should have some storage space for all the clothes, at least. I'm still a little weirded out about not having a room anymore. After sawing off the top of the bed from the room over the garage, we did manage to fit it through my door and swap it with my bed okay. The only things in my room that reflect me at all now are the two large bookshelves, each shelf two rows deep, with stuffed animals sitting on every book. Everything else is bare. Clean, I suppose I should say. I'm not allowed in, of course, even though I forgot a few things I wanted from the bookshelves.
I wish I knew what I was doing. Every few days I get a funny attack of existentialism. I've got it under control, of course- I mastered my depression years ago when I learned my triggers and disciplined myself into more positive thinking. But I still worry sometimes about the meaninglessness of things. Sometimes I wonder if we've advanced too far (or not enough?), that we no longer are driven by need to get up and act for survival. So much more of man's time is spent these days in whittling away unneeded time. Facebook, video games, movies, the internet. No one says, "I'm bored, let's make a lemonade stand. If we don't make any money, at least we'll have lemonade." I'm just as guilty. I sit around doing nothing quite often. Movies these days keep showing the end of the world. It's like we're in shock that we've lasted so long, that nothing has happened yet to kick us in the pants. We're due for another ice age in a couple thousand years, but that's not much to worry about right now. What am I doing going to college, making my dad worry about money? What is it for? I'll be dead in about 60 years, give or take. I hate money. Dang. I forgot I had promised to call Lishy. Well, too late now, I guess. She'd probably be up, but both our brains are probably checked out at this hour. I'm not really in the mood for nonsense, or for debating whether swearing is okay or not. I'm really tired of that argument. I feel like a fake, being at Vassar. Pretending I'm someone smart. My dog's teeth are rotting and we have to wait for a check to come so we can take her to the vet. If it were my teeth, we'd charge it on a credit card, or put off buying something. But my dog doesn't matter. Why?
Clearly, my brain is starting to melt. I'm ranting stupidly about nothing. I hope Trey is okay. I was hoping he might call, since he's often allowed to make phone calls at night when he's at drill. My mom wants me to yell at him and tell him to get a job and start applying to school already. I can't even hint such things to him or he gets upset with me, though. I wish I understood him. I've made myself an open book to him, but I can't tell how he's feeling when he's right in front of me. I feel like an idiot. A useless idiot. I don't understand what he expects of me. He must value me, because he says so, and because he drives miles to see me and spend time with me. When I see Chiara, she expects me to talk and to listen, to pose for pictures and be enthusiastic about finding silly things to do together. Phil expects the same. I don't know what Trey wants me to do. Be excited to see him and then leave him alone, I guess. Blah. I miss him. I do notice when he pays attention to me. I love it. I love when he plays with my hair, or holds my hand as we're walking around. I love when I can do something for him, too, to make him smile.
I can never get enough of his attention. I guess I'm a little greedy about that. I always want a little more snuggling, a little more kissing or hair-petting. I guess it's silly. This whole entry has been silly. I hope nobody reads it. Too much complaining. Needs more cowbell.
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