Moving from left to right.

I had almost forgotten how much I loved running. Or, maybe, love is too strong of a word. Generally, even. Either way, I had almost forgotten how much I enjoyed running. I was anxious about the whole thing. I mean, it was hard to find the time to run and train up before it. Not that I'd need to train up for a measly five mile run, of course.

So we ran cold.

It was wonderful. The crowd of people, the energy. I couldn't help myself. I just ran, made my way up the group a bit. Nothing spectacular. I knew those little 50-yard sprints were going to bite me, but I didn't care. I was feeling competitive. I love that feeling. So I ran and I ran until my knee started to bother me. It wasn't much. Just a bit tender. And then it got worse, so I walked for a bit. Just a bit, though. Because if there's one thing I love more than competition, it's pushing things too far.

And so, naturally, I sprinted the last mile as best I could. Which is bad, apparently. So that'll be fun, I guess. I think I can get a really good last run in before all of that business comes to a head. Or maybe frisbee. That'll really make things fun.

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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