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I laughed out loud when I realized what I was singing, today (this song). So appropriate for everyday use.

I'm the only person I know who works two jobs and has a pre-health concentration added to her psych major...

It was only recently that I realized that there's a reason for this.

It's been an adjustment. I still don't think that I have a huge amount of free time, but I have been finding an hour or so every day that I can use for my own enjoyment. And then on weekends, I can maximize my time by spending time with friends during the dead hours of the night/morning! It can be done! I can still have friends!

Oh, one last thing; some (most) of my friends, down here, keep talking to me about all the great times they had drinking/doing other recreational naughty naughty things.

Hey, guess what?!

I DON'T CARE HOW COOL IT WAS THAT YOU DID BLAHBLAHBLAH WHILE YOU WERE DRUNK.

YOU ARE INFINITELY BORING TO ME, RIGHT NOW.

If you have to qualify ANY story with, "You had to be there/drunk/otherwise inebriated to think it was funny/awesome/fun..." IT'S NOT A GOOD STORY. It's like saying, "Hey, I didn't invite you out, so let me tell you what a boring time we had, then tell you that you just don't understand how fun it was because you weren't there."

BORING. WAKE ME UP WHEN YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT HUMANS WITHOUT PULSES (click that link, darn it) OR OTHER COOL MEDICAL/PSYCHOLOGICAL BREAKTHROUGHS.

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Funny I should mention that particular shirt, in the last entry.

My life is really busy. I have two jobs, I volunteer once a week, and I'm taking on eighteen hours per semester...and that still probably isn't enough to get me out of undergrad on time. I'm constantly learning one semester ahead so that, when it starts to get really, really hard, I at least have some sort of knowledge basis. My tumblr dashboard is composed of a couple of friends' pages and several medical tumblr pages, with sketches of tendons, bones, and vessels, and links to old medical books about malformed hearts and other oddities (which I download and consume on a regular basis). I read psychology magazines in my spare time, and probably average five hours per night on sleep. I work out two hours, six days per week, and love to read Japanese literature, as of late.

So.

REALLY BUSY.

(Point being?)

The point of all this, my dears, is that I don't have a terribly large amount of time for...well...people. So I kind of wish that there was this awesome type of relationship where I could NOT talk to the guy for weeks--sometimes months--and still come right back to where we left off. THAT, for some reason, IS MY IDEAL.

...Probably because it always works for me! I wander back when I need the extra cuddling and romance...then I wander away again! Very easy concept, don't understand why barely anyone else wants this. Of course there are conversations in between, but I just don't...NEED more than that.


Sure, okay, fine, the idea of coming home each night and crawling into bed with someone else is...nice-sounding. It sounds nice. Nice it sounds, as Yoda would say. But just...

I feel so limited in my own ability to go out into the world, when I have someone else attached to me. I hardly enjoyed Italy at all, when I went, because I was in a relationship with someone and was constantly worrying about his feelings and keeping in touch with him. I hardly enjoy conversations with the same person, if they're so regular, too...it doesn't matter who it is. I see their patterns of speech and start to expect the responses, and it just drives me to insanity, after a while (the problem with a photographic memory--if our main mode of communication is text, I remember everything they've ever sent, and statistics start to reveal themselves; it even bothers me to read my own writing).

So either someone needs to learn to keep up with me and kind of come and go as he pleases, too, or I need to learn to deal with anchors on this particular boat.

--Because, let's be honest, I'm out at sea in every sense of the phrase.

--Just...now is not the time for any sort of emotional connections. Now is not the time to start having feelings. The time now is not.



...SO DON'T LET YOUR MOTHERFUCKING FRIENDS CALL YOU "MY BOY." NOT EVEN WHEN THEY'VE BEEN DRINKING.




(I told my dad I declared psychology with a pre-health major, tonight, everyone, and he surprised me. His whole face lit up. He and I talked for hours about the medical field and psychology/psychiatry as they are today. I'm so thrilled.)

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