the 1,066th wednesday [approximately]. i don't do math. i don't even know if that sounds right. but on this day, kelly and i watched the windmills for a while. i hadn't realized how great they are until today. very surreal, like so much of my life right now. i feel very ugly today. just disgusting. i also feel ill. and tired. but not depressed. i will say however, that i am in a state of sadness, which is conveniently making itself very "manageable" for me. let me think of how to put this; i am not happy, but i am not unhappy, and not depressed, but i am sad. it's a strange way of being for me right now. i don't know what to do. well i do, sort of, and have actually been out and about consistently, but my sense of time is utterly off, and my means of living (namely my thought processes. very weird.) is extremely unusual at the present time. i've been meaning to write, or at least really write for days now, but i haven't been able to muster it. too many thoughts, i guess. i don't know what i've done for the past few days. it's all a wreck inside my head. let's retrace it, shall we. i got home from new york at five in the morning on monday. after driving for nearly twelve hours straight. i had unfortunately, and unwisely, taken too many "no Doz" and red bulls and espresso drinks. the last two hours of the trip were tremendously painful. i cried a lot. which i suppose was good, because being in that emotional state made it easier to forget just how exhausted i was. i would have pulled over to sleep, actually i did in fact do that, but was so hopped up on caffeine, i couldn't sleep. that's when the crying started. at one point, when i could really tell i was beginning to lose it, i started to wonder whether or not i was really dead. for instance, maybe i had fallen asleep at the wheel, crashing and dying so instantly, that my conscious self had not recognized my own death. and i would forever be driving, hopped up on no Doz, completely and utterly exhausted, but i couldn't ever sleep. like some horrible purgatory. i ended up smelling old t.shirts belonging to other people in order to make myself cry, so i could make it home. i got home to my parent's house and took a bath. motor skills and manuverability failing, i collapsed in bed, and lie there for about twenty minutes, very worried that i might not be capable of sleep. but i fell asleep and proceeded to have the most fucked up dreams i have ever had. they involved oral sex with people lacking genitalia, lots and lots of water, mountains and some dams, as in water blocking dams. i woke up after about an hour of that, my heart racing. i called my mom. i called the emergency room. then i called the poison hotline. some very computerized sounding lady answered the phone, and i said something along the lines of, "took too much no Doz and energy drinks, my heart is rapid, i feel like i'm dying." she asked me an assortment of questions and then put me on hold. the music that played while i waited was incredibly weird and made me feel even crazier. she clicked back on the line and told me i should be fine, especially if i were a "pretty healthy" younge person. we hung up. i took a bath, and then went downstairs to make some tea. very nauseas, and seeing no other solution, i decided to make myself vomit. it wasn't hard. but the unwanted matter did a fine job of burning the back of my throat, giving me one more thing to be miserable about for the next few days. while washing my mouth and face, and simultaneously freaking out because the back of my throat was slowly being eaten away by acid, i noticed that there was barf on his shirt, so i had to clean it, and make sure nothing stained. it didn't, but it was certainly one more thing to deal with and be upset about. i took another bath, and went to sleep. once again, dreaming very strangely. woke up. moved stuff out of my apartment in town. came home to eat with my parents, who decided then would the an excellent time to discuss my failures as a human being. that wasn't really what we were talking about, but practically. they wanted to inform me that i don't appear to have any plan, and i had better get one. we talked about my pipedreams, well, i talked about my dreams and ideas, they called them wishes. finally i couldn't take it anymore, so i went upstairs in tears, and slept for a few hours. i woke up again, went to grounds for a while, no one was there. i sat alone. hung out with mark peterson for a time, went home and read my letter from eoin, which made my day so much better.

that's where it gets all blurry. i'm sure i could remember, but i don't really care to right now. i haven't done much. but that first day was a real trip. i need to get a new job. i'd like to get a place. but who knows. i don't. everything beyond needing a job seems very up in the air. and everything beyond this exact minute in my life seems up in the air, as well. i don't know what's happening really. i need a job first. i have tons of other things to do, i'm just confused and bewildered. nothing is laid out. i should probably do that, too, lay things out. maybe not. and now my foot's asleep. apparently spell check doesn't work. i'm sure i got my points across, good spelling or not. chin up.