spending my awake time downloading mp3s so i can compile a cd for my friend, kristina. before that, i was reading christine's journals. she's an incredible writer -- everything she says could have come from my own mouth. i relate to her thoughts so well. she is so gifted, and it all only makes me wish i had really put my heart into my writing classes. but, writing good isn't necesarily learned.

i packed one more box tonight. i haven't packed anything since the weekend. and i'm worried i'm not going to get done by next week. i really don't like it here now. my bare walls are towering over me. it's strangely clausterphobic to me. there's only my framed print of van gogh's starry night and a random tulip garden print on the walls. i left up one dried rose bouquet from jon too. otherwise, it's like a boring stranger's room.