...In which our heroine needs a necessary distraction.

Midterms this week. Zero motivation to write my producing analysis on A History of Violence or study for my biology exam tomorrrow.

So instead, since my internal clock is all fucked up from the time change and I took a nap at 6PM:

      I'm sitting in the spot where Kara slept this weekend. When the adorable bald clerk at Sephora asked how long we'd been friends, the enormity of the answer - 15 years - struck me then. We had so much fun drinking wine as sweet as grape juice and getting scared by low budget horror films and making faces at the St. Patrick's Day drunks and eating dinner at 10PM. The bones in front of my ears hurt and I don't know why. We looked at apartments today - Emily called, and I e-mailed eight potential dwellings for the next year. Lots of promise, lots of excitement. Somedays I have to remember I'm capable of such decisions. My parents gave me a check for $500 that they certainly don't have for, as my dad said, "life, school, etc." I think I'm going to buy a new television with it, HD, because I can't watch movies on the same blue television that I've had since I entered double digits.

      The forecast predicts weather in the 50s all week and I bought a pair of tights at the grocery store today to wear dresses. Why must everything in women's clothes be different - numbers, letters, names. The thighs of my jeans always conveniently rip out when I'm about to go home, which I am on Saturday. OSU and UC spring breaks are the same as mine and this is a delightful fact. PITCHFORK OR LOLLAPALOOZA...this is the most significant decision facing me right now, and for this I'm thankful. My dishwasher always makes noises befitting of demonic possession, and with the apartment to myself, I'm sure to run it before I go to bed always.

       Today I saw that Ben had one of his articles published online, and I was overwhelmed at how happy I was he's being productive and succeeding, even if we barely ever talk. Little joy - I couldn't get that phrase out of my head. I bought a red writer's notebook at the feminist bookstore in Andersonville and am keeping my thoughts in it. Kara touched it, saying she knew a million dollar idea would be stored within. I had a table read of my first 25 pages of the new script and it sounded good. My friend Steve told me I write like the Coen Brothers and it was the best compliment of the week. NOT, the security guard at work who calls me baby doll. Chicago public schools are a mess - I'm learning this from the inside out - and I feel so badly for the kids trapped within. I visited ACT Charter High School, which is being shut down by the city, and felt like I was in an episode of The Wire. In some small part, even though I mostly just write e-mails and file papers, I feel like I'm helping with CCAP. "'Cause everything be great, and everything be good, if everybody could," is the quote on my Facebook and that's how working at CCAP makes me feel. Maybe it doesn't matter in the whole big dance of it all, but at least we can try. 

I love this song so much. It makes me think of University of Iowa blankets made it forts and sleeping until 1PM and the boy I stopped loving a year ago. It really is the "Album of the Year," - this song, that he gave to me on those nights.