lye berry

so, here i am sprawled on the floor with a borrowed laptop and internet connection, not falling asleep. it's the second day of the 4th of July weekend, 2005 style, and i've nothing to show for it. i went to mass yesterday, was horribly late, saw that chick that was digging me, was thinking of coming up to her, saw her talking to the mom squad and thought better of it. hung out with a bud of mine that night, got pissed with her and just sulked the rest of the evening.

this morning wasn't that grand either. i decide to go to the service today to make up for being atrociously late yesterday, and i bearly make it. i figure that since i finished the one yesterday, i'd skip out early, while they were still on the first verse of the final hymn. again, i get prissy with my very patient and devoted bud, and just lets me be.

i think the only redeeming aspects of this weekend thus far, are my conversations with emma. it's quite refreshing to talk to her, complete with wit and sarcasm. true, she zones often and is bored half the time, but it's still meager compared to the gems that i mine from talking to her. is it so bad of me if sometimes i find it more engaging to talk with a twelve year old than anybody else closer to my biological age?

i did try to salvage the day by travelling to a certain memorable mall at columbia, but they closed quite early today. i found myself just driving around and getting lost at ellicott city.

i think i know what ails me: it's melancholia.

*p.s., this posting was originally supposed to be entitled An Ode to Grace.
it was a pleasant surprise, i think, when a result popped up when googled.
how do you like that, my well-informed, pessimistic friend?