It's 3:46 am on March 1st, 2013, and I've managed to go more than a year without blogging. One. Entire. Year. I always knew I was rather slipshod with things like this, but...wait, I'm pretty sure the last post I stuck in here claimed that I was going to be more up-to-date with my blogging / journal-writing / whatever psychological function this actually serves for me. Or perhaps it was the post before this one. I don't think I even know anymore...is there an export function in this thing? I would be mightily displeased if Blogger vanished and I lost almost 10 years worth of journal entries. I'm fantastically sleep-deprived and that always helps me become a rambling mess with little in the way of sense or structure. I like to imagine myself as a Shoggoth, in situations like this, except that I am wearing a monocle and fez for reasons that are not wholly comprehensible to me or...really anyone, I would posit.
I have a quiz tomorrow. Two, in fact. Medicinal chemistry and pharmacokinetics. Oh, by the way - I'm back in school for pharmacy. I actually knew that about a month before the last post I stuck on here, which was over a year ago. My productivity knows no bounds. Or maybe I have just been knee-deep in learning how to use pharmaceuticals to make people better! (Faster. Stronger. I can rebuild them, if only I had an endless supply of oxycodone.)
God I'm tired. And not. I think my brain is constantly trying to punch itself in the balls, with the result basically being my personality at any given time.
In any case, let me sum up what you've missed from 2011 until now. I got into pharmacy school. I moved out of New York into Piscataway, then New Brunswick, New Jersey. (I know. Jerrrrrrrsey?!) I learned much. Slept little. Worked hard. Played hard. Had a one-night stand that was actually fun, for once. Fell in love (though that was a considerable amount of time after said one-night stand, and obviously with someone else.) Lost love. Realized that I do, in fact, have a strong sense of self-respect and self-worth and I'm no longer afraid to act upon it when I need to. Moped and hurt and obsessed for a while, then got over it. Went to a party, got drunk, and apparently got sandwiched on the dance floor by two straight boys. Later actually kissed one of said straight boys at a different party. Said straight boy is apparently extremely comfortable with his own sexuality, which I salute. Studied much. Slept littler still. (Wait...that's actually a word?)
And now...now I'm...dating?...someone new. It always comes back to love, doesn't it, no matter what else is going on. We've not quite established what, precisely, we are, since he lives in New York and I live in the boonies of Central Jersey, but I think I'm okay with that ambiguity at the moment. I have a great deal going on. Many things are lining up, many things are falling through, rain dances from the sky at odd intervals, and I contain sunshine in a handkerchief for those odd days.
Life proceeds at a steady gait, and I do my best to tag along.
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