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Dear Diary,
Well I've obviously been a little spread out in my entries...probably because most of the time I don't feel like I have anything earth-shattering developments to contribute. Don't hold your breath this time either.
The long-awaited summer has brought lots of monotomy, especially considering I don't have a job yet, and my internship has been continuously delayed. I'm finally starting this next Tuesday, which I maybe shouldn't be too happy about until I actually find out the specifics of what I'm doing. My supervisor already seems a little out-there and overwhelmed by her sudden work-load, because apparently the editor-in-chief has been MIA lately, so I may be a psuedo-shrink above anything else. Considering most of my interview involved her bitching and stressing about the magazine, it's a certain possibility.
But until all that fun starts, I've been occupying myself mostly with working out (shocker!), sleeping, reading, playing guitar, and becoming a lifeless mass on the couch in front of the TV. Working out has become therapeutic. I finally understand that endorphin "high" everyone always mentions (but that I dismissed in yet another effort to avoid the treadmill at all costs). The other night I was on the verge of tears, really missing LA and fed up with my entire family, strongly considering keeping Liz's bed at the Delts warm for her while she's at David's for the duration of the summer. After going for a run, though, I felt better about the situation (though I'm still really bored here most of the time). And I didn't make up that story to brag about the fact that, yes, I actually ran, though that's sooo something I would do.
But the working out at Sunset Hills is also strengthening my ankle. I've only had to ice a few times after a particularly over-enthusiastic encounter with the stepping machine. Yes, sometimes it feels like a foreign entity, and yes, the screws still bulge outta my skin, but if they didn't, I wouldn't have my patented pick-up line anymore, so it all works out.
I definitely miss my roommates already. The second to last night I was there was so fun. Liz pulled an all-nighter for her bio chem final, while Leah and I involuntarily followed suit, probably because of the traces of Red Bull still left in our bloodstream. At least Leah was drinking it to finish her paper; I, like the dumbass I am, sipped it because I like the taste..hahaha. So while some of us were popping ritalin, some of us were making an honest effort to fall asleep. I had a date with my mom the next night becuase she had to drive my sister to prom in Glendale (yes, the city I cannot escape) so I really wanted shut-eye, especially because I had finished my last in-class final that day and needed to put the finishing touches on my print final the next day before e-mailing it in. That, of course, didn't happen. But it was an eventful night. We comforted Liz as she cried over boy troubles, we bought some drugs, we saw the sunrise, and we all got some work done (though mine was just packing). I miss my room 13 bitches!
I talked to Liz yesterday, who had some hilarious yet pathetic news for me. Apparently, Loser has been asking her to hook us back up, meaning he is completey ignorant of the fact that it's completely over. Though I miss partying with him at his place, there's no way I'd make that kind of regression. Yuck.
Anyway, better get back to my book. I'm reading Shopgirl, by Steve Martin, which is actually a very good book, though I frighteningly identify with the title character a little too much, methinks (isn't that just the cutest word?) Though apparently, I'm devoid of emotions when it comes to guys. "I've never seen you cry over a guy, Danielle!" Liz exclaimed one day while Leah chimed in, as if this was such extraordinary behavior (though, living in a sorority house, I can tell you it probably is). "I wish I could be like you," she continued. "How do you do it?" "Well," I answered, ready to impart my words of wisdom. "I just don't give too much of a fuck about guys." Not that that's necessarily a good thing. If I did, maybe I would finally find some genuine love, or at least I would stop getting yelled at every time I tell my mom I never want to get married.
So, anyway, now I'm off.
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