...drifting in and out of lifetimes unmentionable by name...

I can't help having these bouts of pissyness from time to time, during which I get snappish and easily irritated. My parents don't know what to do with me, because they don't really see me all that often, and when they do I'm seldom in a good mood. It doesn't help that my dad's pretty irritable, too; we don't really get along very well. Which is okay, I guess. I can't complain of my situation. I just get sad about it sometimes.

I feel as though I'm many different people sometimes, and I take turns doing things they would do. Does that sound insane? Sometimes I just want to be alone and sometimes I can't get enough of people. Read the events of the last day and tell me if I don't seem to be living several lives.

Yesterday was great. I woke up late, conspicuously free of my usual baggy eyes and crumpled hair, took a shower, and went to a nearby café to write. They were out of croissants, so I ate a chocolate cupcake and planned the plotline of the story from a narrative perspective. When I started getting cold I moved to Union Square and got in an intense conversation with two gay guys about racism and homophobia in society and how the Bible Belt came to be, and red states and blue states and everything else. I don't know why I love talking to strangers so much. Life is about living, you know? I love seeing people with their own energies and ideals and personalities and exchanging ideas with them. I love making friends with street vendors, store workers, bookshop volunteers, homeless people who play the harmonica, strangers in the park. And why not? I'm careful, and I don't usually walk alone at night anyway. I want to live my life as richly as I can.

After talking to them I decided to go to Barnes & Noble on a whim and spent a while looking at tattoo art books--why am I so fascinated by tattoo art?--and finally wandered over to the shelf of baby-name books. I bought one for $4 and decided that my main character's name is Spooner.

When I got home, Renata and Alecia were preparing a "present" for Harry, who's at his country house. We laughed about it for a while before we went to chinatown with my mom and I ordered jellyfish just for the hell of it. It was delicious, although too spicy for me to really handle. We walked around and bought things: sunglasses for Renata, rocking chair for my cell phone, strawberry gummies, I <3 NY tee-shirt for Alecia.

When I got home, I called Harry and we talked for a while about all sorts of meaningful things. I told him about buying the baby-names book and he groaned. I visit him at work almost every day, since it's so near where I live: "Now all my co-workers are going to think I knocked you up!" I was in a great mood, and I just laughed and kept laughing. I really am lucky. Harry still makes me laugh as much as ever, and loves me even more. I fell asleep content, though a little pissed at Renata and Alecia, who kept me up again.

I got my school schedule this morning. It's actually quite nice, with the exception of the fact that I have chorus four times a week on top of jazz vocal twice. If I drop chorus, I'll be able to take yoga instead of tap and maybe LCD, too, and still have a decent amount of frees. Renata's schedule is stuffed, mostly due to Latin, but advisor is Meghan, which rocks, although I'd already known that because Meghan told me at Prom while she was a little tipsy. "Don't tell anyone I told you, though," she giggled, and I grinned. How can you not love her? I had a dream once that she and Fish got married.

And I love Bob Dylan beyond the nameable or even the rational, because his lyrics understand me and speak to me and teach me to aspire.