YOUR PHONE'S OFF THE HOOK (BUT YOU'RE NOT!)

It's already obviously spring break around here. So many cabs circling campus and so many people with rolling suitcases. Everybody's going to NYC and LA and occasionally Toronto or Monreal. If I remember correctly, I traveled a lot more last year than this, but I don't know why that would be. I remember wanting to get away to New York at every possbile moment. I don't know what I wanted out of it, but I almost never got it (as is the way), and now that I'm a real adult and the world is required to allow me to drink in all of its establishments, I could kind of muster a shrug for it.

THERE'S A REAL COOL CLUB ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN

My band is cooler than your band. Seriously cooler. Notre Dame wasn't ready for it to be brought so hard, but we brought it way hard. It was a great weekend. Not only did we play well, we basically chilled out on the bus and cut up. Those guys really know how to cut up. They also know how to shred. I could quote a whole lot of in-jokes or make some Ali G references or tell you that we got bombed on $2 pitchers at a dance club in a barely renovated movie theater, but it wouldn't get the point across, really.

I've been kind of weird and exhausted since then. After we got back on Sunday I watched a lot of Seinfeld and ate some chicken fingers, and that was about the most activity I could muster. Yesterday was barely different, except I dragged my ass to therapy and Paul later took me out to dinner. Paul and I talk about how we're artists with vision and pure force of will & we don't care about the establishment or the academy. I like being called an artist. I'm trying to get up the nerve to be honest in my writing. Maybe that sounds like it should be easy, but it feels impossible to me sometimes. I'm afraid that it won't be cool, that it will give too much away and make me vulnerable. But I think I'm starting to realize that I need to make myself vulnerable in order to make it work. That is the most frightening thing in the world. To me, at least. The girl with a hundred costumes.