It's never too late.

And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way

Weighing my pockets with stones of longing

Especially when those days are Saturday and Sunday.

They always come crawling back

News on the Allison front: My bike is missing! My sweet vehicle has been pried from its mother's loving arms. I'm going to put up some pitiful posters and hopefully it will be returned. I guess if it isn't, at least I won't need to worry about storing it over the winter. That's a good thing, right? *sigh*

I'm liking the haircut. Sleeping is much easier without that superfluous 8 inches.

Schoolwork is killing me. I mean, I love it; it's fascinating and exactly what I want to be studying and I just want to dive into it in my spare time... if I had spare time. As it stands, it is WORK. And too much of it. Last night I was looking forlornly at the books I needed to read, and proceded by spending the next chunk of time researching convents in France where I could go on retreat as soon as I get out of here. I can't believe I am leaving for Mali so soon. Am I ever going to be prepared for things that happen in my life? Am I ever going to be ready for time to have passed? Will I always feel behind, being tossed with only some vague idea that things will work out but forever knowing that I am swamped in make-up work of reviewing things that have already happened? Ick. Looking at that last phrase psychologically--ick! Please don't let this be the definition of my existence. The sad fact is I've already related so much to that feeling. The evil of DWELLING and things already done feeling INCOMPLETE...

I was reading ravengreen's diary entry about Banana's diary entry about working full time with a desk job versus artistic and creative exploration. It really set me thinking (again) about my "FUTURE." Suzy and I tackled this briefly yesterday evening, goals for "when we grow up." I decided to start selling crafts on the internet this summer and stumble into my fortune that I can use to establish a small pardisical hamlet and then give away to be nice to people. If only, if only, if only... I lost track of my ideals watching the season finale of "Newlyweds." Let it fade into the dream of blurry celebrity.

Today in History class I woke up enough to tell Bill North that the French word for beggar is "mendiant" (in comparison to mendicants). After class he asked me how I was doing, like something was wrong. Cathy did the same thing after French class. Am I emitting sad rays? Maybe it's just my general exhaustion. I keep talking about it--maybe it's time to actually get it checked out. Iron? (not mono, I don't think) depression? Thinking about going to a counsellor again stresses me out. Why am I avoiding things?

Along those lines, I need to figure out how my projet autobiographique will be held together. What do I have to say for myself? Can I do something monumental? Revolutionary? Eye-opening? Different, at least?

Linguistics midterm #2 due Friday, and morning quiz. Research paper and essai critique abstracts due Monday. Work from 4:45-6:00. Perhaps I will squeeze in some swimming and lose myself in another blessed "moment de vrai fluidite," romancing once again "l'idee de se noyer." And dream of convents.

Love,

Adelaide

P.S. I told Theo about Suzy asking me out on a date, and, whether that was real/serious or not, he asked if we need to review the "exclusive dating" conversation. Interesting prospect... Can't tell what I think really. Curious about my interactions with other humans. Defensive after Chris Renk's random phone call and attack on long-term "exclusive" relationships at our age. Am I ready for something exploratory? Am I ready to spread my little branches? The last few weeks, concentrating nowish, I have been feeling rebellion in my veins. How it will manifest, I dare not predict. But look out my little world, I guess.

Nostalgia for the future... at 3:40 p.m.