I feel like talking.
Without you here,
There is less to say.
Oh Garden State soundtrack. I thought I'd lost it, and was pleasantly surprised when one of the songs came on through shuffle. So here I am, practicing Zen while waiting for my next class (1.5 hours from now.) I really do love my new mp3 player; I always get a confused look when I refer to is as my Zen, and it's nice to have a moment before admitting I've embraced consumerism. (I just saw my husband walk through the library. He didn't even look at me. I'm going to complain to Prof. Hugo about it.)
Elaina's been bragging about her new true-hippy music tastes, and nagging me about how I didn't introduce them to her. Sweetie, the mellow stuff that I've embraced came after an overdose of Marley and Zeppelin and the Stones while I was in high school. Good people, though, and I'm glad you're so excited about them.
Which reminds me. I need to look up Reverend Horton Heat, I've been hearing him mentioned and seeing reminders in ads and websites for the last 2 months.
Anyway, must talk to Jessica on the phone now and tell her how fishing went last night. (I went fishing last night!)