I'm not asking for forever.  I'm just asking for a chance.

Why, hello, Xanga.  I have missed you.

Hopefully, I'm back.

Gosh, I wish I were stupid enough to spend my spring break getting shit-faced drunk and then taking pictures of myself, Corona in hand, in various lewd poses with members of the same and opposite sex.

Moreover, I wish I were stupid enough to post said pictures on a certain social networking site, thereby allowing the entire world to enjoy my underage escapades, and to identify each person involved by full name.

I wish I were stupid enough not to realize that colleges and high school administrators actually do look for that kind of stuff.

It looks like I've missed out on the whole high school experience.  Damn.

I've tried three or four times to write about the next few months, but each time it just sounds trite and insincere.

I'm stuck between being unable to wait to head back south and being kept here by my mother and Brian and the people I'll be leaving behind.

I can't wait to be out of high school and moving on to college, and I fall more in love with UGA each time I visit, but I don't want to leave the people I love here either.

Everybody promise me they'll look for me on television.  =)

One year.

And what a roller coaster it has been.

Enjoy your birthday, bastard child.

I like Hamlet.  =)

If I were Georgia, I wouldn't be so proud of the fact that the only U.S. president born in the state happened to be wholly incompetent and useless.  I certainly wouldn't go about naming lakes, boulevards, and convention centers after him.

Yet, while Ohio has been the mother of eight presidents (namely William Henry Harrison, Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Benjamin Harrison, McKinley, Taft, and Harding), we recognize that one died in office after one month, another after two years, one presided over an administration full of scandal, two were assassinated, one got stuck in the White House bathtub, and the others were rather unmemorable.  Who, instead, do we choose to name a limited access highway after?

Why, Ronald Reagan, of course.

In the aftermath, I find myself wondering, "What if?"  And I hate it when it comes down to that.  I will be haunted for the rest of my life by that one little question.

What if... I had procrastinated a little bit less on my application?
What if... I had reviewed my application a little more thoroughly before my interview?
What if... I had agreed with the interviewers politically?
What if... I had had a later interview time and had therefore been more awake?
What if... I had been a little bit more knowledgable about Hurricane Katrina?
What if... I had been able to participate more effectively in discussion?
What if... I had been willing to step on a few toes for my own gain?

I'll never know.  And now I find myself dealing with the headache of applying for financial aid in the aftermath of a still-not-finalized divorce, the heartache of knowing I let my mother down, and the worry of financing the rest of my college education because, for whatever reason, I just wasn't quite good enough.

My mother told me that, even if I didn't get the Fellowship, she'd make it work for me to go to Georgia.  I'm having trouble allowing her to make that decision in good conscience because I know I have a good chance of being able to go to Clemson for free.  I know she's just being nice because she knows I'll be happiest at Georgia.  But I just feel like I let her down.

My biggest fear has reared its ugly head, and I know that I'll be a better person for it in the end.  But right now, it just sucks.

If memory serves, I'm addicted to words and they're useless.

I'm at a loss for words.  Can I borrow yours?

Why, Georgia, why?

Thank you Justin, John, and John for echoing my thoughts when I can't formulate them into my own words.

There's really no way to reach me.

One hundred days.

That still seems like a long time.

I mean, just look at what FDR and his pet Congress were able to do in 100 days.

We are young... heartache to heartache we stand.  =)

As much as I love capitalism, I really, really hate advertisements.  Especially this time of year.  If "You have one new crush from Loveland!!!11oneone1!" flashes across my screen one more time, I may be inclined to throw something at it.  I have another monitor, so what does it matter if I smash this one?  Besides, I was already aware of the fact that I have a crush from Loveland.  That's not news.  They're probably psychic too, and they can tell me his name may or may not begin with a letter in the first half of the alphabet and he may or may not be my age or a little older or younger.  Genius.

... oh, wait.  You mean Brian fits every single one of those criteria?  No way!!!one1  That's amazing!  I never would have guessed.

</sarcasm>

In other news, go buy Glenn Beck's new book.

If every American would take a few minutes to consider what this guy has to say, our situation in the world would be far less dire.

Four shopping days left!

22 January 1973

35 years of silence,
46 million lives claimed.