SPACE AVAILABLE

That's what it says in huge letters on the sign I stare at out my window while I'm working at my desk. "Up to 300,000 RSF!" -- whatever in tha hell an RSF is, you can get 300,000 of 'em right chere, no waiting. I've been sitting here all day writing my term paper and looking at the stupid sign and thinking about how my friend left town today and now she doesn't live here anymore. Immersing yourself in an in-depth analysis of neo-Freudian psychodynamic theory is not the best distraction when you're bummed, I can now attest. I can't analyze this feeling to death like I usually do because it has too many pieces -- I'm angry and depressed and thrilled for her and whiny about how it's not fair and vicariously excited because I know this is the start of something big. I don't know how to resolve the ambiguity so I just hold the blob of feeling carefully in the center of my mind and try to ignore it but every once in a while I have to reach in and poke at it like a loose tooth. Oh well will ya look at that, I guess I could analyze it to death after all.

I have come to one concrete conclusion and it involves this blog, which is why I'm taking a break from trying to stuff 100 years of contradictory and often absurd psychological theory into a 15-page paper, which -- so help me -- I will print an extra copy of just so I can burn it after I turn the thing in. I've always waited for inspiration to strike before I wrote anything here; I've never wanted to blog unless I had something to say. So screw that. I read my friends' blogs who write about normal daily happenings and I'm never bored -- I always feel like I'm a part of their lives and it's a good feeling. So from now on, less literary and more this is what I did today, dear diary -- if for no other reason, then because someone in Canada might read it and feel like she's part of my life.