So, here I am. It's 3:15 and I work at 5. I told myself that I would come home from school and sleep, but alas, I'm wide awake, wasting time on the computer. It's a habit of mine. I put everything off until I just can't anymore. I tell myself "Well, if I got to sleep right now, I would get four hours. You know, I don't really need four hours; three would suffice." It continues like that until I have only an hour to sleep, at which point it's futile.

It leaves me right here...

So, Ian and Joe just left. They just decided to stop in and say hi. It was nice to see Ian again, it's been a while.

School was early today, 8 o'clock I had to be in the classroom. The rule of Marquette is, if the teacher is ten minutes late, you can leave without any consequences. Well, the teacher was literally nine minutes late. Everyone was just leaving as she walked into the room.

For some reason, I'm really dreading workt today. I used to love the weekends because it meant an end to the work week. Not anymore. I used to not mind work; now it's just become horrible. It's not that the work is too hard or anything, I just get bored. And we're not talking a little bored, I'm talking, shooting myself in the face would make me happier than standing in that place for one more second. It's the exact same people every weekend. The demographic doesn't change; everything there is so bland...

I was really depressed this morning. I drove to school, in the darkness, rain and cold air, listening to Stabbing Westward and thinking about Halloween. It's a mind set that I used to spend a lot of time in. I guess it's comfortable for me. It's nice to have thoughts that differ from the normalcy and monotony of life every once in awhile.

I was walking down to the mailbox today, and I suddenly had a mess of memories rush back to me; some good, some not so good. There was a lady walking on the sidewalk across from my house. She wore a blue sweatshirt that was kind of tattered, with her hood up over her head. The point of the hood stuck into the air and swayed ever-so-slightly in the wind. The lady pushed a baby stroller in front of her. It resembled a baby stroller from the eighties; a darker blue, made of ugly fabric. Everything about the sight was wrong; it was exactly how Sarah's mom used to dress. It was the same stroller she pushed Mary in when we went trick-or-treating. It's the same month and the same weather of the Halloween I remember so clearly. Everything was so different back then. It's just weird... the sight seemed like a dream.

In truth, I'm really not even tired, I just know I should be. My body doesn't tell me anymore, so I have to guess...

Well, whatever.

How about this; fuck you. Good parting words I suppose

-Brian