My roommate read my blog last night. Past to present, all 88 forever ago posts. Whoa.

I thought I had this great idea for an old story, and I wrote all kinds of ideas for it in my little notebook. Then I realized it was all too sad to follow through with. I want real life but I want happy endings. I want real life to work it out.

I want to be more happy with myself right now and less upset about something I'm too stubborn to change.

There's this British guy in my History of Rock music class & break out class. He likes a good eclectic range of music and told us that he can't play any instruments, he tried to learn the guitar but was no good at it. He said everything like he was extremely relaxed with saying it, as if admitting a weakness was like saying if it was cloudy or sunny out. No biggie. Hot accent aside, I've got something to learn from this kid.