The best thing is when I drive home from Zack's. Because, naturally, I'm always in a really good mood, and I'm always wide awake. (Why I wonder why...) I blared Moulin Rouge and Fiona Apple on the way home today (Song of Choice: Sleep to Dream). I can belt out the words, and even though I'm not on key...no one is there to critisize me. I don't have to worry about anyone else hearing me in my room, I don't have to worry about the bass being too loud for Caitlin, and I don't have to worry about the possibility of making my poor cats go deaf. I can scream, and rant, and rave, and it's all perfect. Because I'm the only one who hears it.
It's like my diary (my "real" diary.) Where I unleash all of my frustrations and fears and secrets and ambitions...and even with that I fear that someone may pick it up one day and read it. But when I'm in the car...with loud music...sometimes it feels good just to say something, knowing that there's no chance you'll get a reaction out of it. You know?
I'm a dork, that's why I'm obsessing over this. That and I'm having an unusual emo moment.
I have a One Act rehearsal tomorrow and an extra-credit Physics paper that I should write, just to get a higher B (well doesn't it seem like I care about my studies...?) I honestly could care less about football. When Grandpa was alive there were always big parties and lots of people at my Grandparent's house and it was always fun, and now...almost because of that, it's hard to think about it. I remember the parties, vaugely, but my Mom remembers them. Ever since Grandpa died she hasn't been able to get into them, and I don't blame her. There had been a party thrown for the Super Bowl and her house since she was a little girl (you know...in the Dark Ages, just kidding.) I'm unusually tired...I think I'm going to grab some eats and hit the hey.
How about that...two entries in one day. Yeeeee-haw I'm on a roll.
