The world often spins without me. I've come to this conclusion only recently when I found events happening beyond my control. One moment I am tied to the city until March, and the next I am going to NC for the weekend. I am constantly busy with nothing to do. I feel as if I all too often waste precious moments and find myself overwhelmed when they are gone.

The room around me is a mess of papers, clothes, and crumbs, but it is not my place to clean it. I cannot understand how people live like this, as I am continually picking up after myself (and the various men in my life). I cannot complain, though, because this is the mess of very good people. I could never say anything bad about people who bend over backwards to help me. I feel priveleged to even know them.

Work is calling only a bit louder than this diary. If I could get paid to type on this site I would. But, alas, it will never happen. So, without further ado, back to the real world.