It's always nice when one's brain and one's heart reach a truce. Unfortunately, I am not always a party to their articulation of the truce - so I have no idea why it happened a few days ago. Except that maybe Mom laughing hysterically at my problems put them into a more handle-able perspective for me? It sounds like an unusual cure, for sure, but I'll take what I can get.
This post should be full of profundity.
But I am not really that interested in profundity at the moment. Instead, I am interested in finding out where my cappucino has gone to. Dove il cappucino? Desidero un cappucino, adesso. The decor of Blue Bar is really not that pleasing - I do not come for atmosphere. I come for caffeine. Full stop.
If my hands don't stop hurting soon, I am going to break down and cry. Actually, I kind of wish that I could just have my little inevitable stress-crying bout right now so that I could stop being on the verge of it for days at a time. Over the weirdest things, too. Alexis, Jeff, and Esther denied me access to one of their poetry workshopping sessions. . . well, so what? I'm not in the class, so it's a perfectly reasonable thing for them to do. I've just never been on the outside of a writing group in my life. It was a weird feeling, like the validity of my poetic identity had been denied. I didn't like it much. It must be depressing to be just an art major.
Will I still drink this much coca cola when I'm in the United States?
I think I need to go in search of my cappucino. Like, deep sea diving, only for caffeinated goodness.