Twenty four hour relief.

I haven't written in my real journal in a while. A few months, really. Basically when I started writing in this. And I update this a lot more often than I did the journal. Oh well. That's how it goes, I guess. I just haven't had a lot of thoughts I've felt like keeping to myself. Well, until recently.

That's okay.

I haven't drawn a comic in almost two weeks? One week? It's been a while, but I'm not really all that worried about it. Well, maybe a little. I'm a little worried about it considering that it's my job. I'll probably draw one this week. In color. Got to get back on track with that stuff.

My allergies are killing me slowly, but I've been drinking a lot of tea and honey. It's a good combination, and an even better excuse to eat honey. My throat hurts. It's a good fight.

"Don't you ever give up?" She asked. If I was that kind of person, I thought, we probably wouldn't be here right now. Some losing battles are worth fighting. "Nope," I smiled. She looked at the clock. "Two hours is a long time."

"That's okay." Totally worth it.

Comments

No, Holmes, no!

All I ever think about these days is how much I have to/want to study. I hope that's not how I have a good time, now. Would I rather go hang out with peeps or would I rather sit in and study? It is a difficult question to answer. Just a couple more days and then I can focus all my energy on the next greatest idea I've ever had: iconic detectives and sharks.

Side effects include constant irritability, being an ass.

It was a typical day in MUS 307 . A typical day where nobody pays attention to anything the professor talks about. A day where people play shitty flash games instead of take notes. A day where people sit and refresh their Facebook newsfeed instead of follow the slides. A day where people roll their eyes and go to sleep instead of listen to the music examples. A day where people get up and leave ten minutes before lecture ends instead of having the God damn decency to stay the whole time and pretend to be interested. I mean, if you're going to be so unaffected by the music we're studying in class then why the fuck did you take the class in the first place? Fuck it makes me mad. And I haven't even started talking about that fucker who sits in the back and tries to whistle along with every song that gets played in class. Alright, dude, we get it: you are just too cool and you know everything about jazz, ever. You know every standard ever written and everybody's so...

I wonder, sometimes.

I am standing on the edge of a cliff face. A breeze whips past me as I stare out into the darkness. It's a familiar sight, comforting. The river bends below me. It stretches out, away from me at both ends. The arch of the bridge traverses the river, silhouetted by the house lights and golf course below us. So far away from us. The highway reaches out before us, straight into the hills and disappears on the horizon. It is silent. There are no cars. No planes. No animals. It is just us standing on top of the cliff. As it should be. It's late. A late weeknight. Just a normal Tuesday night to the world. I step away from the edge. In 5 minutes, I will be 22 years old. It's a turning point in my life. A fixed checkpoint. I'm only 21 years old, I'm not an actual adult yet. Maybe legally. But I'm still a child. I'm immature, I laugh at fart jokes. I laugh at everything. Why would I take anything seriously? 21 years old and we still have no responsibilities. We c...

everything is fine

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