Champion of the Semicolon

I'm getting really sick of the news. Another day, another country invaded. What, we're up to three for this administration alone? Another day, another absolute SHOCKER that this fundamentalist country doesn't want gays getting married! Another day, another horse race election story. Another day, another revocation of our civil liberties. Then there's the litany of pundits that I once listened to (or heckled) -- they've lost significance to me now because they're just nit-picking over news carcasses. Maybe I'm embracing jadedness, but I don't have the energy to chase down every outrage the mill churns out. I didn't even watch the Oscars. I worked on my Christopher Marlowe paper. I'm not sure if this means I'm losing my curiosity and zeal, or if I'm just getting swamped. Pretty sure it's the latter, but we'll see.

My trip to Arizona looms. Suddenly, I'm not at all looking forward to it. Going to see my family means I'll have to deal with my family, and at this point, even a call home depresses me. My parents and I don't know how to deal with each other. It's awkward, and inevitably falls to the old patterns that drove me insane in the first place. The worst part is that right now, my life is in complete limbo. I don't know what I'll be doing three months from now. I have no home (not in Anchorage, and certainly not this dorm), just a hometown. Every vapid asshole in my classes undermines my sense of accomplishment. (The degree I get will be the same degree handed to Jack McAsshat and Tiffany Paidfor come 2007. This is why I'm considering staying in the honors college. It's so sad, but I want elitist distinction. There. I said it.) ARGHHHH. I'm disconnected, self-absorbed and full of contradictions.

On the plus side, I register in 30 minutes.