My life's got more pick-up than a FordF150

Just last week I was wallowing, correct? Last Monday, that horrible, hated Valentine's Day, was a day of moping, feeling sad, and wondering what I was possibly going to do with all the time I had to sit around. And now, a week and a few days later, my life is going about 80 miles an hour down 400, straining to keep up with itself.

It's amazing how much Sarah of late February 2005 resembles high school Sarah: for the past week I've been getting up early, going to school, stressing out over everything and still not doing well, coming home, scarfing down some inedible South Beach Diet concoction, doing some homework, racing off to work, working and doing homework at the same time, coming home, fighting against the clock to eat dinner, shower, and complete a few random chores before finishing the rest of the homework, and mercifully collapsing into bed no later than 10 o'clock.

If you compare that to Sarah of high school, you will find we are very very similar. The only difference is I get slightly more sleep than she did. But I've been reconnecting with Albuquerque friends (and making new ones) which I haven't really done since junior year, and I've started blogging again, downloading music again, and even my body is beginning to look similar to that of my earlier high school days.

An update, for anyone who cares, is that I've lost 22 pounds on the South Beach Diet since Ian left at the beginning of January.

I find it strange that I can snap back to my high school mentality of have to get it done, have to do this, have to stress, have to stress, have to stress over and over again, so quickly. Am I fighting growing up, as well? Or am I just preparing myself for the way that I inevitably will always be? Was the past year an aberration to be quickly forgotten?

I left Sweet Briar almost exactly one year ago. It's odd to me that some days I cannot tell how much I've changed, and on others, it is all too obvious.

Tear drop 1:32 PM of Sarah

Mapquest: Directions for Finding Your Way out of Hell

I'm slowly beginning to pick up the pieces of my life:

Lack of Job: Has been reversed, so that now have job, am enjoying job, and am getting paid a decent sum of money at job. Plus, I don't have to work weekends, my boss is highly understanding of needing some vacation time to go visit my one-and-only, and get to do homework and hang out when not actually being bothered by gymnastic parents. Woo!

Lack of Interest in School: Well, I have an A in Philosophy, B's in Psych and PoliSci, but... am failing Precalculus and Biology. Biology's not so bad, I am actually studying for this test, but Precal I studied my ass off for, and um, bombed. That's what you get when you take a math class on the computer. Eh. Jones is gonna tutor me, plus I've been doing as much extra work as humanly possible. Have GOT to keep the HOPE, and am also taking May-mester and summer classes, and have meeting with advisor to discuss graduation in August of 06. Yeah, that's right. 06. I took a freakin year off, and I get to graduate a year ahead of my friends? Suhweet. Graduate school, here I come.

I made friends with Joel's girlfriend, Ashley, and she's really fun. We have good times. But I guess what I need to say is that everyone needs to see Don Juan Demarco, if not for the hottness of Johnny Depp, for the fact that the movie is pretty damn good. Love it.

I miss my boyfriend.

Tear drop 9:16 PM of Sarah

Ah the joy of being a 20 year old. I've been mostly unemployed for the past month and a week, and the only person willing to hire me is my boyfriend's mom, which all of a sudden doesn't make my career opportunities look grand. As of Monday I am a receptionist at NorthWinds Gymnastics, and by god, it will be good to make some money again. When you start having to borrow money from your mom to buy cigarettes it means two things: you're a sad, sad individual and you need to quit. Right.

I just looked over the graduation requirements for my illustrious college and it turns out all those AP's, and that semester at Sweet Briar? Yeah, they don't really count for much. At the end of this semester I will have taken the equivalent of 42 hours worth of courses, which, considering I took a year off is actually an achievement, but guess how many actually count towards my graduation?

25. I'm going to be in college forever. Sigh. I don't even have a year, goddammit, not even a year.

Ian came up for Valentine's Weekend, and that was good and fun and all, but the whole only seeing each other every two weeks and leaving and saying good-bye and all that sad, sad stuff? Even sadder when you have to go back inside and have your mom tell you it's okay. It makes you go cupcake crazy, which is bad bad bad.

Yeah. South Beach diet actually fucking works, and I am amazed. Since January 10th, I've lost 20 pounds, and I'm totally on my way to losing more, except for the fact that my beloved baby sister made 36 cupcakes for her lit class and forgot them at home today. She decided that Valentine's cupcakes were no good for class on the day after Valentine's day, and so they are sitting in Tupperware containers all around my kitchen, in addition to the zillion Valentine's cookies that we made and decorated with the I-an last night.

Let me tell you, when you are a sad live-at-home unemployed 20 year old and your baby sister is going out to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory with her nauseatingly cute boyfriend who gave her a gorgeous red rose while you are slumping around in your pajamas on Valentine's day, cupcakes tend to disappear quickly.

Guess those 20 pounds might come back for a visit, huh?

Tear drop 7:24 PM of Sarah

Having the chest flu sucks.

This weekend was an absolute blast- left Thursday evening with Chandler for the famed Tallahassee, and spent three days getting absolutely wasted and having a grand old time with all of the boy's FSU friends, and Saturday night Sara and Adam came down and played too.

Bad part was, I ran out of money before I filled up my tank to come home, so Ian had to drop me 30 bucks to pay for my tank of gas, and then Ian's roommate, Chris dropped the chest flu on the both of us.

So I've been walking around Atlanta for the past two days in 35 degree weather (sometimes less than that) with a 101 - 102 degree fever, hacking up lungs and the like. Man, riding the MARTA when you feel like that is one of the worst things you could ever do to yourself.

This morning I was sitting there in a zone of near-death illness and this man pulls out an enormous handle of whiskey (wrapped in the requisite brown paper bag) and starts chugging away. I'm not kidding, the guy was chugging down whiskey at 10:30 in the morning. And it seems that he had already had some sauce as he began singing to himself, and then shouting at everyone, and talking to himself.

He also played this game with people while he was exhibiting that behavior. He would stare at passengers until they noticed him staring, and once they did, he would lunge at them, as if he was going to attack. It was slightly amusing the first couple times he did it, but when he did it to me, and then berated me for not being scared (I was barely conscious, yo) I decided that his game was no longer fun.

Classes are going mostly awesome, and the mom and dad are going to New York this weekend to go vodka tasting (??) and be happy and cute, so Jess is coming home from Columbus to help me take care of the beast that is Laura, and we are getting massive smashed on the alcohol she has. Ian might be trying to come up, but based on how we're feeling, I don't know if that's going to happen.

I believe that's all the news that is fit to print in this little saga, but give me a call if anyone is ever bored, lord knows Alpharetta is such a hot spot to live...


Tear drop 5:16 PM of Sarah