tomorrow, there be sun.

Oh man.

If you're ever going through your dresser drawers in your parents' home, because you haven't looked in them in more than a year and hey, your style might've changed, and you come across a shoe box full of old notes, it might not be best to sit down and read them.

I had about 20574684367 "crushes" before 9th grade. Which meant, I think, that I desperately wanted to fall in love and since it hadn't happened yet, it was liable to happen with just about anyone.

Also, I was completely insipid until about 11th grade (maybe 10th grade, if I'm being really nice). That may seem like a harsh self-criticism, but my complacent ignorance of everything but my own life... it's really boring. But maybe that's just 8th grade for you. I guess I have a more romantic notion of what constitutes a 14-year-old--like changing beliefs & their associated crises. But I guess that isn't something you tell another 14-year-old girl, at least not in this time period. A note is generally more "OH MY GOD I saw Billy walking out the door after practice and he sort of half-waved IS HE IN LOVE WITH ME?"

OK. I guess that's still the case. Only now it's more "You know that guy with the eyes and the hair in my bio class I told you about? Well, we discussed global warming before class today and then he recycled his water bottle. It was amazing."

AND, you do discuss changing beliefs & their associated crises with your friends... the crises you thought you'd have at 14.

...apparently at some point Convictions became more romantic to me than Romance. Last night I had a bad love-related dream and woke up feeling crappy. Poor me, blah blah, loneliness, blah. Then I turned on the news and learned how a couple Pakistani terrorists had killed Benazir Bhutto, and along with her hope for actual women's rights and an actual election. I remembered our Hindi TA, an expert on Pakistani issues, spending a whole session just talking to us about the state of that country. And I watched the already unstable nation give way to absolute chaos. And saw footage of people crying in the streets. And it all seemed a lot more sad and real to me than my bad dream.

Anyway, tomorrow I leave for Fonix. I am a little nervy, as I always am about airplanes. :/ I repeat the favorable statistics like mantras.

I'm bringing my laptop, so I'll write from the land of the Saguaro Cactus.