-Drank a litre of cranberry juice
-Read The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby
-Walked to Northfield, purchased hot cocoa for tea room, a loaf of bread for myself, and aforementioned litre of cranberry juice
-Watched Labyrinth and fell asleep
-Got sick from two spoonfulls of old tomato soup
-Ate some scones
-Wrote a paper for History of Science

Erk. I probably should have gone to Liverpool, regardless of cost. I know that I do need to look into travel planning, for weekends and spring break. I fear time is running out because soon it will be before I know it and other sayings to that effect!

I have been half-remembering a lot of dreams lately, which is always an experience. Yesterday morning, post-breakfast sleeping, brought on what was going to be a nightmare (my sister calling me with terrible news) but I woke up right before anything happened with my heart pounding in my chest. Then there was the one where Greg guest-starred on Saved by the Bell or Wonder Years or something. He fit right in, it was cute. I think I had Vertigo inspired dreams last night, but I cannot recall the details. I did marry Maren a few nights ago in a terrible ceremony with Mike and Heather attending. I ended up jumping off a roof, and Maren spent the whole time crying I believe. My night of drinking and Thursday has caused me to wonder if some events were dreams or if they actually happened. Ooh, another dream from that nap period involved me getting up and sitting on my floor trying to get ready. I think Bethany and two of her friends from home came in and laughed at me.

In my semi-extensive reading lately, there has been a recurring thread of French people writing memoirs. There were more commonalities than that, but I am feeling out of sorts. Puppy kicking might have been involved.

I really need to do some art/write about vulnerability (haha, Art of the Memoir, I love you!). The best memoirs seem to draw in a lot of almost fictionialized events, dreams, and strange connections. I do not feel old enough to have the same amount of reflection/connection as I have been reading. Are there any young person memoirs worth a damn? There are plenty of coming of age stories, but are any true?

I should go release this cranberry juice from my system.

p.s. I think I have athlete's foot. For the third time. Gr.

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