I've been waiting to take those anti-anxiety pills until a day when I don't feel sick, that way when I take them, I'll know more about the side effects. However, that day may not come for a while. I guess I'll take them tomorrow. We'll see what happens.
Steph and Dylan were both away for the night. I thought it might be relaxing having the apartment to myself. It was certainly quieter. Too quiet. I spent most of the night trying to get someone to talk to. I called my good friend, who said he may call me later. He didn't. Because of the sensitive nature of most of the things I may end up be writing about this guy, I would prefer to just call him... Oliver. I like that name. Steph hates it because all she hears is the word, "Olive."
Anyway, I have to be at work at eight a.m. for a store meeting tomorrow, where we all sit in the dining room of the restaurant, and talk about how the store is doing. Sometimes there are interesting activities that I can only assume are meant to make you want to slam your head on the tables till it's over.
I think another reason I want to start writing things down is because, as I said, my memory is terrible. Because of this, I can remember the gist of my past, but with absolutely no details. This should begin to explain why most of the stuff you will read here is mundane and unimportant.
People in my apartment complex complain a lot about how "noisy" we are. After staying in the dead-quiet apartment all night, I can't see how we are the noisiest. I keep hearing loud bumps and windows slamming, and across the way, a guy has his window open and his TV on. These aren't complaints though, ambient noises have never really bothered me. I don't understand those uppity neighbors I always seem to get, who complain every time I shut my fridge. I seem to have a knack for finding people who would rather not have ears at all.
I watched more House M.D. tonight, video chatted with Steph, and tried to get Starcraft to work with my brother, who lives in Santa Barbara for college at UCSB. This was the original Starcraft, gloriously manufactured in 1998, and the game my brother used to beat the shit out of me in throughout my childhood. Seriously, this guy seemed like a god of war at this game. We never got it to work. He says he'll try to download some things and get it working for tomorrow. "Unfortunately" I have a fun night planned for tomorrow with the empty apartment and the lady-friend.
It's two in the morning, and I have to get up at six-thirty. I'm afraid to go to sleep, because I might wake up feeling nauseous.
But life seems to always be that way.
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