Every once in a while I think to myself, what is the best way to get a message across without being necessarily obvious about getting a message across? You see, not only am I nonconfrontational, but I also do not want to open certain doors - having already shut them. There's something about a door that I have had the satisfaction of slamming shut. I just do not want to open it.
Now occasionally I will find myself in a very black mood. The blackest of black. You know, the proverbial stormclouds are gathering - "what's wrong with 'the stormclouds are gathering?'" ... oh, Sports Night, you make me smile - and every once in a while everything in my mind just absolutely explodes into little tiny pieces.
And the only piece that I can retain is the piece that pokes me and says 'hey, you like this song that just came on, but instead of singing to it, you are sitting here with your face pinched into an exhausting scowl! why is that, my dear?'
So suddenly I recall that I am angry. White-hot, driven-to-distraction angry. Except, you understand, the anger is the distraction - the only thing I can focus on. And I shut right down. Because let's face it. This was something worth being angry about, for myriad reasons, none of which are worth discussing.
Nevertheless, most of the anger has passed with a good night's sleep and some hydration and I begin to feel myself again.
I need to stop putting my bare hands into the base bath (and spilling hexanes, ether, acetone, etc. on them) because all of my fingers and my palm and my knuckles are flaking and peeling, which doesn't hurt but does feel gross when they brush against each other as fingers on a hand are wont to do.
What else, what else, what else. I'm flying to Baltimore on Friday - going to see Johns Hopkins, gonna see if I fit and if they want me and how I like it. Adam's at Universal this week, so lab is quiet (and clean!), and he's bringing me back something. Probably a hoodie, he says. Eeeee! I do love hoodies.
Okay my hands are driving me nuts. Good thing I have the lotion from that hotel in Hanover here in lab.
I am irritated still, though. And not just dry-skin-on-my-hands irritated. Legitimately irritated, because sometimes things do not work out the way they seem like they ought to work (hello, CLAISEN, could you hurry up and REARRANGE please?), and often situations change so as to be completely unreadable.
Ah, life.
I am trying my very best to say something here, but it is all encrypted because, after all, this is a public forum. That's probably for the best.
Apparently Jon has a concert tonight. I did not know about this until Emily Casey texted me this morning to ask if I was going. This is par for the course. Okay I gotta go stare at my reaction for a few more minutes.
As far as this entry goes, I would have to give it an F. I will try to think of an engaging story for next time.
I still can't believe it's March.
