Filtered cigs taste funny. Hopefully I don't get used to them...

I made too much food last night and literally begged Christa to come eat some spaghetti today...college student she is, she was unable to turn the offer of free food...so lucky me got to eat with company for once again, and good company at dat. :)

She asked me if I felt uncomfortable writing things knowing that she was reading. I told her no, but never really thought about it. Now I wonder why she asked...was it just on whim, or did she think I *was* leaving things out here? I suppose I could hope she wanted me to say certain things about her or I...but those thoughs aren't there to say...wherever this 'relationship' goes is up to her and I'm trying not to think about it. I'll just have to be content with whatever bones I get. It's odd though...I'm going to have a hard time in conversation sometime soon I think...everything worth saying is here and she's already read it by the time I see her each day. Then of course there's this: I don't want her to think I ask these qustions and think these thoughts *here* because I'm afraid of asking her IRL...it's just that, like I said, here is where I think, or, in some cases, where my thoughts lead up to, overdevelopment themselves, and then force their way out. weird this feeling is...but it *doesn't* bother me that she's here, it really doesn't, honest engine, supercallifragexpealidosis, floksenoucinihillipilification, and all that jazz.

"Comes the king to the castle?"
Fricative, postlabial, dipthong, bleeeaaaahhhhhick

I have to study for my statistics test now, so I'll leave you all to ponder your navels instead of reading fascinating tidbits confirming my neurosis.

OH yeah, just one last thing. I turned down what might end up being 4th row tickets to see Ben Harper on April 4th in Berekely...I wanna go so bad I can taste it, but iz a no-no right now, no time, no money. :( Mom and Dad would be proud.

Right now I thinking about the movie _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_. What the hell is the name of the guy who played the heurotic friend? The one helped Ferris borrow his dad's porche? I don't remember. Anyway, I used to feel like that guy a lot...So much so that I'd go off and do crazy things, hoping it would all backfire and burn me in the ass...I don't feel so inclined to do that anymore. I remember fall '96 when I skipped class three times to go see a concert or two, Seattle or the SF area. Never once did it ream me. I just went to Maui, and didn't really get reamed badly...course I almost ended up killing myself when I got back, so I guess that's reaming myself rather badly...but still. Mom and dad are bailing me out...sometimes I feel "bad" for lack of a better description, that I've fucked up so much and they've had to bail me out like this. It's a bit different this time though...I really *thought* i could afford that trip. I *honestly* thought I could find a job to pay for it, car insurance, food, etc. I was wrong, harshly mistaken...
this writing is sounding very forced and stale to me. I just finished studying for my test on the morrow...it's one of those things where I either know it or don't know it. I can cram on this and that, but what it all boils down to is how hard I've worked so far. Engineering is comforting in that regard. You know that, with each test, either you know it or you don't know it. No amount of bullshit will get you through mathematics...English on the other hand, is so much more arbitrary...( i'm not very satisfied with any of this writing right now...I should stop now b4 it gets worse.)