Blogging is theraputic.

I live for Friday night. I came to this realization Saturday morning shortly before I made the hour long trip over to Belleville to see my dad. I go almost every week. By visiting my dad, I basically lose contact with the outside world. I don't have friends over there, and I have no computer to keep in touch with internet friends, so I basically become a shut-in. I have the option of staying home, but I'm basically all my dad has, and I feel way too guilty. So I go. I usually skip about a week a month to keep myself sane, but for the other three, I'm there. So anyways, I go on Saturday usually, so I do have Friday night to hang out. Thus, I put a lot of stock in this, so when that doesn't pan out, I crash.

Obviously, last Friday night was one of those nights, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this. I had plans. I had backup plans. For various reasons, both failed. I was starting to despair a bit, but there was still hope I could pull something off. Nope. Didn't happen. So I went to bed at 1, got up at 9, and went to my dad's. I just got back an hour or so ago, did a little homework, returned calls (since everyone seems to call when I'm gone), and now I'm pouring out my emotions in this blog. Lucky you. You get to read this mess. I'm done.

Christopher Michael Tucker.

Song of the day: "A Perfect Sonnet" by Bright Eyes.
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