I’m not an overtly emotional person. I assume that people don’t have time to know what I’m feeling (if it’s negative) or that they ought to know what I’m feeling when it’s positive. I have a hard time expressing emotion. There are times when I’d really like to walk up to people that I care about, and I mean deeply care about, hug them and tell them I love them and that I’m glad I know them and that they bother to care about me. But every time I think about it, I start to say something then just say something else entirely. Like about ponies. Or something stupid like that. It’s a hard habit to break. Telling people that you care sets you up for disappointment. And I don’t like being disappointed. But anyway, why am I thinking about that today? Because several times today/this weekend I wanted to say the three words that make you most vulnerable to a couple people I consider close friends. But I didn’t. Maybe they’ll read this. Maybe they won’t. Either way, just blogging about wanting to say it doesn’t count.
On we go. Chaucer makes me want to die. Every time I think about it. I want to die. But my Chaucer paper is the last paper I have to write for this semester. This fact almost fills me with joy. Almost.
I got decent hours for next semester at MJ. I’ll still be done by 3 every day with classes and work. So it will be good. My finals week hours aren’t so fantastic but I’ll get over it. Might as well get used to being up and around by 7:30 again. I’ll have to be up and in the dining hall at OBC by 7 every morning this summer anyway.
Anyway, I should get going. I have to go buy whipped cream. Actually, the important part of this trip is me going to the bank to deposit my check. But still. Whipped cream is important too. Umm… well, I think that’s all. Oh, by the way, if the first paragraph seems awfully familiar to our interactions, yeah. Ha. Maybe someday. Or should I say perhaps someday? 😉