it's all talk
3.11.2004
  So this vacation was supposed to provide some quiet time, just for me. I was planning on going to bed early, waking with the sun, reading leisurely, and watching the grass grow.
It snowed yesterday. No grass is growing.
I've slept til noon each day.
No reading other than advertisements in InStyle while I work it at the gym.

I'm homesick.

My mom called me over the weekend for her usual check-up. I didn't call back for days. I'd ignore the ringing and stay in bed. She left voicemail each morning, sounding sad and confused. I'd either listen to it the messages whole way through and then hide under my covers, or I'd delete the thing as soon as I heard her take a breath.

I desperately want to see her.

A list of my tasks is taped above the lightswitch in this awful, small, poorly-lit room. None of those tasks have been completed. I haven't even practiced piano or done my vocal exercises. I just don't want to do anything.

I had been thinking to myself all this year that things would be so much better if I could just be let alone. I take daily walks to the downtown library and check my email (only NY Times updates, ever) and boil water for tea and wash my hair and I just feel so sad, all day long.

I've gone through some shit during these past few months, but I don't want to use it as my excuse. I've got to be more consistent than that.

I've tried to establish consistency by filling up my days with appointments and activities and jobs and classes and assignments and rehearsals. During this break alone, I have to research and write a midterm, compose a policy brief for my internship, write some arrangements for all three ensembles, put together a thesis proposal, catch up on some reading, continue my tutoring, meet with a professor, and draft a curriculum for the summer. Vacation? No.

When a new friend asked me what my hobbies were, what I liked to do for fun, I told her I had none and didn't have free time for fun things, which is more or less true, but so, so sad.

Now that I finally have that time, I can't think of anything fun to do. 
3.07.2004
  Yaron walks into my room.

"Aaaamy, I think I fucked up your tea."

My mug had been steeping downstairs, next to his. I had chosen green; he always prefers black.

He did not know that my choice was green today.

He puts my polka-dot mug down next to my elbow. I look down.

I see murky liquid, of a soiled white color, settling in my cup.

"I don't know what happened. It looks messed up."

"It's supposed to be green tea," I tell him. "Supposed."

Silently, he rewraps his fingers around the mug's handle, pivots, and shuffles back to the kitchen to undo the damage.

...Kiss the ring, bitch. Muhahaha ;) 

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