Love that.

Why the hell does Kim care about why I didn't get high at Jeff's? It's not a big deal. It's not Anna taking the moral high ground. And I'm not sure why her asking bothered me.

Anyway. I just got done making about 5,000 lists. A list of things I'm going to need when I move out (so I can project how much money I'm going to need to have saved by next year because I'm not spending more than a year in this house whether I find someone to be my roommate or not) A list of clothes that I want. A list of things that I want to have accomplished before the end of the weekend. A list of things that I ate today and shouldn't have. A list of CDs that I want to buy. A list of movies that I want to see. A list of things that I'm going to try in order to make myself more desirable. A list of things that I'm going to do over the summer. A list of possible names for the short story character that I haven't created yet.

List insanity. I get in these weird moods where I feel like everything around me is ten times more intense than it should be and I think that making lists is a way of feeling like I'm a little more in control. Calm down, Anna, clam down.

My wrist hurts like a son of a bitch and its starting to swell a little bit. I can barely even put my car into third or fifth gear because putting pressure on my wrist like that makes me want to vomit. Not cool.

I've also been having these moments where I'm sitting around doing nothing and thinking of nothing in particular when these little thoughts enter my brain and the result is a slew of things that I'm determined to do. Driving to pick Kim up this morning, I decided that I'm going to minor in Women's Studies. Sitting in Shakespeare, staring at the clock, I decided that I wanted to be a professor instead of teaching high school. Checking my email, I decided that I'm going to get a haircut tomorrow. Stupid pointless shit that comes out of no where and makes me go "Yes, I must do this. My life depends on it." I hate these weird moods I get in.

Oh, this is my favorite Liz Phair song. You know the one that sounds like a jump rope rhyme where the last line is "I'll fuck you til your dick is blue." Is it called Blow Job Queen? I think so. Not sure. Whatever.

I'm running out of things to ramble about. Guess I'll go make some more fucking lists . . .

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