A SINGLE SEQUINED HIGH TOP
Usually when I'm at school I feel genuinely happy and pleased, or failing that, hopeful at the prospect for feeling happy, but tonight I was in that familiar borderland between crying and not crying. I shouldn't say familiar because it feels really strange to me now, but it used to be pretty standard, as feelings go. I was supposed to meet everybody at the movie tonight (One Hour Photo) but I practiced longer than I meant to and got there fifteen minutes late (and got in free as well). All of the seats were taken, so I sat in the back. I hated the movie; apparently I'm the only one who felt that way. It seemed like everything was over-emotionalized and over-emphasized when just a little nuance would have done nicely, and the soundtrack kept on swelling to absurd (or what I considered absurd) heights. During one of the most suspenseful scenes the film caught on fire because a huge knot in the reel had caused a lot of friction, and it's the only time I've ever seen burning film in real life. At the moment I thought it was some really contrived conceptual ending about the deceitful nature of image, but it was just a mishap. (This is what happens to people who over-theorize everything, I guess.) They said they would show the end of it in a half hour, but I didn't want to see any more. I'm sure I was a real pill to hang out with tonight.

Now I feel like the kind of person that everybody avoids, and gosh, is that ever lame. Dave kindly talked to me about whatever music-related stuff we usually discuss, and Megan and Erik were in Megan-and-Erik land, as usual. I'm going to avoid saying the usual, maudlin things that people say when they're feeling like this because I'm sure everybody's heard enough of it already, and I really don't want to gratify myself by being that whiny.

Rest easy, though, everybody. My classes all look great this semester and I'm going about everything else pretty well.