Good days, Bad days

Life is full of good days and bad days. Why is it that I tend to blog only on the bad days? I remember a couple of months ago when I was rummaging in my parent's garage, I found one of my journals I kept when I was in middle school. I actually kept several journals, all of them about half-filled with my musings. I was so scatter-brained even then that I would lose them somewhere in the tornado I called my room, or buy a pretty new pink one I saw in the store (Barnes and Noble, Strand, Rite Aid... mostly Rite Aid since we were poor even back then).

Anyway, I re-read it and was genuinely shocked. Who was this kid?? I was amused, mortified, and saddened. My journal was filled with obsessive rants on one of my closest friends, my siblings, and the world. Basically, it see-sawed between, "I HATE the world! I LOVE the world! but MOSTLY I DETEST THE SHIT OUT OF IT!" Whatever that means. I actually capitalized a lot of my sentences. So I obviously meant it, duh. And apparently, I only wrote on those miserable days when adolescence felt like a storm if bricks falling on my head. Not pleasant.

So about 10 years later, I'm doing the same thing today. Today was a bad day. Periodically, I raise my head from the pile of shit called work, look around, and realize I have absolutely no friends. I have a life, but no one here to share it with. It kind of sucks, but I guess grad school does that to you... makes you the loner you promised yourself you wouldn't be. Today was one of those days. I have no plans for Friday and Sat night (although I am going to a party on Sunday), and I fell asleep at the last party I went to. Plus the closest friend I DID have - let's call her Melon- has drifted away and we've had a falling out sort of. More on that later (plus more on her name). What has happened? I've become as pathetic as the 14-yr old who wrote with such angst. Ah well. C'est la vie.

Have a good 13th. Friday the 13th.