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14:01 - Thursday, Feb. 24, 2005
if college were backwards...
...people would brag about how early they got up that morning, ('man, I got up at 3 AM this Saturday!') and how long's the longest they've ever slept ('and then that night I was soooo tired that I went to bed at 7 and didn't wake up until TUESDAY!'). They would extol the virtues of that time when their head was clear ('I had just taken one of those Emergen-C tablets, and everyone around me could understand every word I said!'), and that five-year stretch when they never once got laid ('it was such a spiritual experience! I decided, hey, I don't want to get laid EVER AGAIN!'). They would wear little boots with no fur on them and long, flowing shapeless skirts. They would wear their pants high on their waists and button-down fitted shirts. They would extremely reluctantly stop studying to party for just a couple of hours. Ramen noodles would go out of business because everyone'd be cooking five-course dinners. You would hear whistles from friends calling their roommates back from outdoors before dark.
People would sleep at night, and get up in the morning.

00:13 - Sunday, Feb. 20, 2005
i don't have any secrets
12:14 a.m. Should be in Denver. Am not, despite this, in Denver. Too lazy and unwilling to take 2 buses to be in Denver.
Mostly, I wanted to stay in Denver because I am sick of coming home at a reasonable hour to do reasonable things, like sleep and wake up at a reasonable hour to do other reasonable things, like study for my test on Monday. I have an odd eye for parties, but I am rarely given the chance to attend them. Correction: I rarely accept the chance to attend them. I prefer the ones where I can hear and see the people I am talking to, and hear and see where they're coming from, too. I prefer the ones where there is a chance of barely avoided hookups, and the odd one consumated. I prefer the ones where talking about social constructions and customs is almost expected, and nearly always carried out. The ones where slightly tipsy almost-strangers spill their secrets to me in an undertone.
This was, maybe, a perfect fit, and if not, then it would have been a perfect fit for the other kind of good party; the kind where I have one good friend there who agrees to sit in a side room with me and gossip, or maybe do the tipsy-secret spilling thing as well, but reciprocally, because even though I'm not drunk, you don't have to be to spill secrets to your best friend.
Too bad I don't really have any secrets.


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