Crash.
<<2004-07-20 - 3:54 p.m.>>

Possibly because this German course I've signed myself up for is either much too hard or much too boring or maybe both. In any case, I felt the rest of the room disappearing outside my head as I sat there. It was like being fifteen, in Latin class. Advanced Beginner to Advanced Intermediate was a jump. Yup. Sure was. Let's try that again.

And Maggie's diary entries are making me miss (well, Maggie, of course, but also) my city and my apartment and my mother and my sister and my Chloe. I want to go home.

I certainly do not want to go back to that stuffy classroom where there are too many people and none of them seem particularly interesting (and I know they'd probably be interesting if I got to know them, but I want a burst of charisma, a flame) and even my indomitable desire to speak in class has flagged in front of their ranks of silence.

And also maybe everything is so frustrating right now because I haven't really eaten yet. I've had the Other Reaction to Things Being Shaken Up after my move and the changing of the academic guard and whatnot, which is the one that makes me not eat. Which is the one that then makes me eat very bizarrely and sporadically. And I'd forgotten how cranky and helpless hunger makes me feel.

Also, and this is bizarre for someone as moderate as I am, I've been dying to smoke a bowl and curl up in a ball and turn into a concatenation of nerve endings. Yes, that would be very nice. And pretty near impossible. Do I want to buy pot auf deutsch? No, I do not. Well, I will do that immediately on return to New York.

I hear there's a farmer's market this afternoon, near my new apartment, along the canal. I hope so. That might cheer me up.

Stay the fuck out of my way, I'm going home to fling German dictionaries at the walls.

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