Drowning, or the Downside of Desirability

In actuality, my nightmares are most likely panic attacks that occur during sleep. Chances that the nightmares of many can be described as such are high. Lately, though, I have the feeling that the boundaries between life and dreams are starting to fade. Perhaps it's a product of not sleeping enough. Even my subconscious is infected by the rushed pace of my life, unable to torture me sufficiently in my sleep. Perhaps it's a product of the exhaustion. While my body rests my mind succumbs to the quiet as best it can. Perhaps it's the precursor to something deeper, more insidious. Perhaps the panic in my chest and the fear creeping up my neck and shoulders across my skull is my signal. Soon I'll step out, fall down, and no one will know what happened, but everyone will know that I couldn't do it. All this from my drowning laundry.

Inaction's Back. Or Some Such

After an unintended two month hiatus, I have returned. Ah yes, just the stellar opening line I was hoping for. Many things have changed, of course. New apartment, new room mate. Other things too.

After having my best semester yet, and yes, this is the part where I confess *cough*brag*cough* about my +A from Wolfgang, I am now in fourth year. It's a similar experience to grade 12, when, despite not feeling any less like the kid I am, all the little ones appeared to be infants with over-laden rucksacks.

New revelation: I can be of interest to very intelligent people. I've always known it's not too difficult to impress very intelligent people, but to capture their interest? That, to me, says sexy. I've been hobknobbing, and so far have managed more than one double take from a slightly disarmed professor.

And with that, I am going to cut this entry short. I've broken my 'never write about the mundane aspects of your life outside of the abstract' rule. Icky. Now all I have to do is start behaving in a manner I don't find personally offensive again.

I'll try this again later.

Welcome back,
Love,
Sarah