So, I’ve been feeling choking-you-from-the-inside-welling-up-faster-than-you-can-blink-it-back friend/homesickness, so I’ll be glad to have some of my peeps around for Easter. (Get it – peeps? Easter? Zombie Jesus?)
Almost every day, at some point, I think to myself, “Why am I not living in Chicago right now?”
“Because I didn’t want to wait to look for a job,” is the answer. But man, will I feel this socially detached in six months? It’s already been three. Why should I have to find new friends, when I already have lots of perfectly good friends just lying around? Am I really homesick? I’m trying to tell myself that I’m not – I’ve never been homesick – but there’s enough vague unhappiness that I can’t identify to not rule it out.
And being frustrated makes me sappier. Stupid non-agression. I guess it’s still better than drinking.
End soppy rant.
while enthusiasticall playing Wii Sports, Jason winged my laptop, sitting open near him. This is what the screen looks like:
On the upside, I still love him. For now.