Shit. I just had a whole house to myself for a week. in all honesty, it was fucking boring. most of the time i spent reminiscing about oxford and my other odd adventures--the good-looking, well dressed boys...moo-moos...walking everywhere with my feet dead. OH THE MOTHERFUCKING MEMORIES. i feel like i have no purpose back here and there needs to be scrupulous planning to alleviate this harrowing madness welling up inside. i'm being such a bum and regressing to procrastinating adolescence. soo fucking immature. that's a side note in addition to the fact that i'm really nor doing anything. sure, watching saving private ryan and the nutty professor (the first eddie murphy version) makes for a relatively pleasant night in...on a friday night...when you're 15. i guess.
what am i to do?