I spend a great deal of time at work, which is a little frustrating because I never have time to just sit at a coffeehouse and read. Yet I am making a decent amount of money, and I do enjoy talking to the ladies I work with. So much for writing about my daily life, eh? Alex and I have been sending messages back and forth ever since we left London, and today I realized I had nothing interesting to say about my day without going into unnecessary detail about a not particularly interesting job. Does anyone actually want to hear about the how clueless the north Austin store was and how cute this old lady was who kept trying on ugly jackets? No, not really. I spent all day in the fitting room though, in my black skinnies, surrounded by mirrors. So if I learned anything today, it was that I need to be hitting up the WAC quite a bit upon returning to Hendrix in, what, two weeks?

I think about that return more often than I should.

Each December I have ever experienced in college has been one where my position in life and with certain people was completely unclear to me. Now that Gavin and I are most certainly only going to be friends, I have no real base to begin from. I have no idea who I will spend my time with, who will want to see me on a regular basis and not just "every now and then" (the words I got from Gavin when I asked if we would still do our homework together and read each other interesting bits from our textbooks). Despite what I tell him, I'm still terrified that Alex is going to conveniently forget my existence when he gets back with his frisbee comrades. I sneakily get him to say that we will do things in January so that at least if he does abandon me, I can be self-righteous and smug and say that he lied, that he was breaking promises. It's either very immature or very clever, and I can't decide which. I don't know why I distrust him so. I trust everyone else from London to keep in touch, and that's silly because he's the one who writes to me every day! He responds to my messages without fail and I haven't gotten Zach to reply to my texts half the time... and yet I absolutely believe in Zach's friendship.

In reading She Came to Stay (by Simone de Beauvoir), I began to absolutely question myself. I question how I see myself, how others must see myself, what exactly "myself" even is. Sometime I wonder if I am doing things in layers. If I am consciously acting out a conscious version of what I pretend is my subconscious, if that even makes sense. Am I fooling myself into fooling myself? I don't know. My head hurts just thinking about it.

So it's a good thing I'm reading Invisible Monsters now, because it's well-written and not as deep, certainly not philosophical. I'm entertained mostly by the number of things I find that are obviously being referenced in Panic! at the Disco's song Time to Dance.

I need some serious New Year's resolutions, but the only ones I can really think of are

1. lose weight
2. save money
3. write more
4. stop being effected by every damn thing ever

And on that note, I am going to write or read now.