There's a hole in my story; there's a hole in my head.

Thank you, thank you, Friday.

Right now I'm getting over a cold and a too-short haircut.  So far I think I'm recovering.

Portland, you are a beautiful city, even while you're wearing your rainy, gray jacket.  I can see the city lights from my window.  They look so good I want to make them into tea and drink until the cup is empty.

So, I'm putting off some asinine social psych assignment because apparently I would rather organize my music folders and make 3-D paper stars out of written-on post-it notes.  Also, hyphens are pretty cool.  I guess it's not the smartest work environment to have Jane and Beth playing Kingdom Hearts in my room, huh? Maybe I should at least write a heading.

It's tough adjusting back into the rhythm of a long-distance relationship.  The late-night phone calls often stretch too long into the night, leaving us tired and groaning in the morning for all the wrong reasons.  I'm two hours behind Matt, so he often calls me too early and I keep him too late.  I think we'll find our way around it again soon.  And maybe by then it won't feel so strange sleeping alone.

Reed life is coming back to me in the same way piano pieces come back to me while I fumble through the notes.  My fingers pick up the melody before I really remember how it goes, and soon the whole song comes together.  I have a good feeling about this.  Although, I have to wonder if coming back to Reed will always feel a little bittersweet when Matt is so far away.

My goal tomorrow is to finally do my laundry.