I'm sorrounded by sad people and it's depressing me...grrr...especially because I'm not a sad person. I'm actually relatively happy, which is pretty abnormal BUT it's working for me at the moment. I have honey crisp apples and burnt popcorn (my favorites!) and I'm enjoying my Thursday evening, knowing full well that somewhere on campus there is a party going on that I could crash but there are two perfectly good reasons why I don't want to do that:
1.) There's a person there that I'm NOT supposed to party with...a.k.a. the boy
2.) I've got homework
So....I'll stay here and party tomorrow night. But back to my original subject: I'm surrounded by sad people. My room mates are sad and there's really nothing I can do about it. I have empathy, that's true, but I'm trying not to let it ruin my somewhat happy feelings. Instead of being cynical I'm just being sarcastic. Yay! A step! BUT it's killing me having the sadness of others.
That's why I'm going home this weekend.
I'm not necessarily one to go home all the time. For some reason, I just don't. I get busy or there's something going on that I would rather do. Like this weekend, if I didn't need to go home I would probably love to go to Love Fest in San Francisco. Or even audition for my school's Christmas Carol show...but I have to go home. I miss my doggies and my bed and...okay, a little bit of my parents. It will be nice to talk to them again. Isn't it funny how our definition of home changes but that our first home, where our parents live, is always the ultimate of home? Even if we really didn't grow up there? I mean, it's just funny because I will tell my friends that "Oh, yeah, I'm going to stay home tonight" and mean my apartment. But when I say "I'm going home this weekend" it's a completely different KIND of home. Like...it's home. I don't even know what I'm going to do there....I hardly will be there the entire weekend...just Saturday night. BUT it should be good.
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