Love Drunk

I’m sitting in the room listening to Boys Like Girls. My wonderful roommate gave me the new cd for my birthday. =]

I’m 18.

Finally “old enough” to be in college. =]

It’s been a weird day. Not really sure what my purpose was in starting this post. Maybe I just got so sick of writing my speech that I needed an outlet. Speeches aren’t fun to write. You don’t get to experiment with words. Your sentence structure has to be relatively simple so you don’t lose the listener. I would never want to be a speaker, or even a speech writer. I have to take this “basic public speaking class.” The requirement is the only thing that keeps me in there. When I get up in front of people, my hands shake. I feel the blood rush to my face as I turn an almost inhuman shade of red. My voice trembles, and I speak way too fast. I doubt this class will cure any of that, but maybe I can get my freakouts under control.

I actually should be taking notes. I have a class at 3:30. I want to go to Synergy tonight, but I have so much homework…that’s probably not going to happen. I could probably blow it off a little more, though. Isn’t that what college is all about? Okay, so that’s partially a joke. I procrastinate, but I always do my work. I should definitely be doing it now.

Apparently, people actually like hearing about my boy drama. I could personally do without. I would give more insight, but I don’t have a clue what’s going on with my life right now. I spent seven hours with a guy yesterday, but now I kinda feel like an afterthought. Maybe my dismal mood respecting him is completely uncalled for. But I think I’ll find out tomorrow. Then I’ll let you know.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s