03.02.01 - 7:15pm

Ahhh, another Friday night. And of course no one has figured out what we're doing yet. Because no one ever figures out what we're doing but me. I will never quit being stupid sorority social chair for the rest of my life. Probably even after I die people will walk up to my urn and they'll ask, "Casey, what are we doing tonight?" As if it were a magic 8 ball that they can shake to see what their plans are for the evening.

Anyway. I am pumped. I want to do something. Vacillating between extreme depression and giddiness is an interesting way to spend a week, n'est-ce pas? I want to get all dressed up and go somewhere swanky downtown and have a great evening with wine and dancing, and be all grown-up with my grown-up man. I am afraid of how happy he makes me. Moom says he's my twin. I don't know. I got really freaked out the other day cause I don't know what I should be doing, it's so odd to think that a guy might stick around longer than just one night or even one weekend. I forget what it's like to have intimacy. I want to give him presents all the time. I want to look through all his photo albums and watch favorite movies and curl up under his comfy duvet. He really does have a great bed, I know that sounds so wrong but when you get to choose between dorm bed and real bed, I'm going with real bed every time. He likes R.E.M. He has the Tourfilm tape. He read The Mysteries of Pittsburgh cause I asked him to. I must shut up before I jinx things.

"Will had never wanted to fall in love...it had always struck him as a peculiarly unpleasant-seeming experience, what with all the loss of sleep and weight, and the unhappiness when it was unreciprocated, and the suspect, dippy happiness when it was working out. These were people who could not control themselves, people who, if only temporarily, were no longer content to occupy their own space, people who could no longer rely on a new jacket, a bag of grass and an afternoon rerun of The Rockford Files to make them complete."

-- Nick Hornby, About A Boy