Oh, oh dear. Up too late, big test tomorrow, cannot sleep... reading Frances Mayes' blog and want to cry. Listening to Norah Jones' first album and want to cry. Reading Way Over Yonder and want to cry. Thinking of H and want to cry. I'm too tired for this, world.  Good thoughts make me cry, bad thoughts make me cry. Why not give me no thoughts at all, those are the easiest to handle. I can't deicide if I want to go home this weekend... it jsut annoys the crap out of me, thinking about it... I feel like it's something I shouldn't have to think about, why can't my matters be of a more exciting, interesting subject? Why is my life so dull?
 I didn't call my grandmother today to wish her a happy birthday. She turned 90.