if the world decides to catch up with me

I've got a goal for the coming months. I want to have conversations with people I don't know.

You wouldn't think that it's that hard to do, but it is. It's impossible! Everyone here sits around talking about jack, pretending they know everything and we never say anything that really amounts to anything. I want to sit with someone I don't know and have a brief moment that means something. I want that conversation to stay with me for the next week. I want that human to mean something to a stranger for a second, and I'd like to think that I could mean something to them as well.

Is that so much to ask?

It's a cold world, folks. I'm feeling it, every day. And I just want a little moment where I am refreshed and don't feel like it's me versus the world. I want to believe in humanity. I once asked Sovey if she thought that overall humanity was good and it was individual people that fucked up or if she thought humanity was the problem and only specific people were the good. She said the latter. I always said I believed the first.

But it's getting harder. Maybe I'm just getting tired. Or older. I don't know.

So this is my plan to combat it all. People are good, right? Humanity, relationships are worth fighting for.

Aren't they?

I always turn the car around

I am entirely unsatisfied with life right now.

I realized how boring I have become.  I don't have any glorious tales of college debauchery, depraved make-outs or even innocent mischief to entertain.  All of my time is spent doing homework or working.  Literally.  Save a few episodes of SVU (my newest addiction), I'm 100% schoolified.

I keep wanting that... brush of glory, the ridiculous story that provides enough fodder for a good week's of reliving.  A homeless man accosting me.  Getting it on in the dark room.  A food fight in the cafeteria.  Almost being hit by a car.  Seriously, anything to just relieve me of the paranoia tied to my planner.

I never thought this would be me, you know?  I was supposed to be the crazy, independent, music video fantasy, indie girl who would walk barefoot, play the piano and write horrible poetry.  Not the girl burdened by textbooks, a fucking Mac laptop and responsibilities to the corporate University! When did this happen?  How did I come to this?

There's got to be more.  Where are the corners to turn, the doors to open, the windows to crawl through?  Is 21 going to be the prize behind door number two?  Will the party really kick into high gear with presents, fire and the spiked punch?

Or am I pinning hopes on the donkey that are only going to leave me dizzy and totally missing the target?