Wow, my school thinks I'm some kind of sexpert (I guess I am tho), but still. Weird. Also, why is it that I, let's just say, "warm up" to people just as soon as it becomes impossible for a true relationship to blossom? Tis my curse evidently. Relationships are so strange, platonic/romantic/sexual... human social interaction really. So complicated and delicate, always hanging in some odd balance. Which reminds me, I'm currently majorly crushing, in a very highschool-sexually-frustrated way, on three people. One of them already has a boyfriend, I think. I'm not sure. Oh well, I guess that's the nature of love. Revealing this rather mysterious thing lead me to think about why I keep an online journal. It's rather contradictory, an online diary. A diary is supposedly for private thoughts, and yet, blogging is a HUGE thing right now? Who doesn't blog? Really? But then I remembered something brilliant: "Talking much about oneself can also be a means to conceal oneself." (Special prize to whomever guesses who said that. Alysson, you can't just google it.) Anyways, that is so amazingly true. Is not love an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired? (Frost, a'thank you.)Is that why we confide in online diaries and blogs? To know if we are worth reading about? To know that people care enough about your life and existence to read through your thoughts? To understand through comments, that they sympathize, or have some input, into how your life is going, as if they truly care, (which I'm sure they actually do for the most part), but I get the feeling that many of us desire that input.

Anyways, so my armpits hurt (how can armpits hurt??) from doing pushups boy-style today. When I told my dad this, he was like >see! girl's can't do boy's exercises<. Then I was like, a) i'm just a wimpy girl and b) what do you know about working out, man-who-looks-pregnant-because-of-beer? Also, I turned a Naaaasty pair of old torn jeans into cute short shorts today. No correlation to the armpit issue, but I just thought I'd announce it and see if people cared. (Kidding, I don't care if you care. Well, I do care, I should hope you care, but not care so carefully about the care I put into making new short shorts. I'm dumb.)

I have to go to sleep. I studied my history notes for almost 7 hours. I'm a psycho. Sooo psycho. I need a good lovin I think. (Btw, a gooood good lovin will burn a substantial amount of calories, like, a whole meal, gone.)

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