I've been doing mostly factual writing as of late. Organizational writing for memory's sake, but nothing especially creative in style or content. I like to think my unique phraseology adds some merit to the blasé recollections, but there are no new thoughts eventually collected in this electronic journal. It's been a very long time since I've had any tragedy worthy of inspiration. My last flurry of intensely productive thought was probably after Dave.
Coming back from an information session on Study Abroad, I ran into Sarah S. at the beach. We talked for a while on varying topics, at one point talking about the Charleston Market's ability to combat homesickness. Firstly, I barely remember any meal at my dad's that was not steak/baked chicken + mashed potatoes + corn/broccoli. Secondly, I haven't been homesick at all. Of course, I miss individuals and recognize that my mom would like to see me, but I have no desire to be home. :\
[Today, in thinking about my tablet, I realized I do not remember the day that I broke up with Jimmy, but I remember the day of our last kiss and where it was. I also remember the dates and locations of my last kisses with Dave and Jeff. Also, Fava, but that is not by any merit of his doing, and I geographically have no idea where that apartment is.
Retrospectively, today was not my day. I verbally expressed frustration at the cymbal girl I don't like, and unfortunately may've recognized the end to my infatuation after spending time with him and his roommate at the beach. Perhaps if I wasn't PMSing, things would have a better outlook. I'm on edge and cranky. My roommate told me that she was going to bed, so I'd have to listen to my music in headphones. Not a problem. However, "going to bed" to read for an hour does not get the same consideration. ]
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