warning sign.

I have found myself writing during, between, before, and after all of my classes, on the bus, on the grass, while sitting on benches, in the middle of the student union, in bed. I apologize that I have begun to find catharsis elsewhere. In the mean time, I have several boring updates followed by several vague assertions about the roots and directions of my own inviolable happiness.

I have a job interview next week with a small feminist press.
Tuesday was Alex's birthday, and we did lots of cool LA things: Cinefamily, Kogi at the Alibi Room, Yogurtland, other things *cough*.
In the last 3 days, I have given myself 11 hours of sleep and have drunk 6 cups of coffee. Today, it began to catch up with me, and I'm back to hating the world like usual. Phew.
Nina's party turned into a kickback because Facebook Events is evil. I had a lot of fun and ended up falling asleep on the stairs after going on a McDonald's run.
School is a bitch, and I've already put it in its place.
I have two recommendation letters for Ph.D. programs, so if I choose that path, I'm on my way.
I'm thinking of living in Berkeley this summer.

When I wake up, I look in the bathroom mirror. I try to wipe away the smudges of mascara from beneath my eyes. There is a mysterious set of scratches on my arm. I run water over my face, try to wake up in pieces. I think of previous versions of myself, how I have washed myself clean of who I was before, of the versions of me I had offered up to other people. I am pretty much sure I like this one best, and so to everyone new, I offer the best I know how to give. Someone else, someone whose name is not worth mentioning, argued with me about this, told me that my growing up would be the most painful thing he would ever have to witness. Why couldn't I just be the way I am now at a time long before? Well, things aren't that simple.

I don't know what I'm saying, only that my anger has turned to acceptance, and acceptance has turned to complete happiness in all of the bad decisions I thought I was making. So he was wrong, I was right, and now we're both happy. Now we both no longer have to deal with each other's neurotic ways. Now I no longer have to look at him and think of all that he will never be. Love never should have turned us into those people and love never will have to be so cruel again.