Post Euphoria

The euphoric high ended. That's not so bad, I'm just not floating around on the stars anymore. It's funny how I'd really like to, literally, though. I didn't get to see Jason yesterday because I got caught up in running errands and writing that song. And today I don't know what exactly happened, but he ended up not calling me back and he's with Matt Judd (the guy I run into everywhere).

Anyhow, I have that haftarah to read in eicha trope tomorrow morning (gag me now) and I guess it'll go well. I learned the stuff, at least and once I learn it, everyone knows I'm more than good at it, but I'll be shaking like a ship being wrecked in a hurricane when I'm up there, nevertheless.

About 85% of my friends move into UGA tomorrow. This includes Kelly, Mark, Lindsay, and just about everyone else in my world. A few are going to Kennesaw but not many, considering I know literally about 3000 people. Probably more. Of those 3000, about 300 are kids I refer to as "friends" and that's where the 85% comes from. I can't do math at all, even with a calculator, so someone else figure out what number that is. Emma's going to Mary Washington in Virginia, so she's escaping Georgia like I am.

I'll miss it though. I really like it here. Yeah, yeah. I hated Savannah, still do, always will. But here is great. Here, I got everything I ever wanted. Here, I became myself again and because of that I'll miss it...and even though it's Georgia, I'll call it home. And occasionally I'll say that I'm from Marietta or Atlanta.

Dad and I went to my last acoustic jam session at Dreamcatcher's today. It was only us and this new guy, Lance. A 22-year-old proffessional guitarist who is absolutely incredible. He made my songs and Dad's awesome. He's not much of a singer at all, so he only sang 2 songs, but he's amazing at guitar...mainly does lead in studio and other things proffessionally. Too bad I'll never see him again. It sucks how you're in a place for so long and you finally start finding the cool things around--your niche just as you leave. I remember it used to be like that when I was really little with playdates. I'd be over at the house or vice versa for hours and hours and we'd hate each other the entire time until about 10 minutes before the doorbell rang and one of us had to go home.

That's how it is with all good things, though. Time runs out because we're fools and waste the rest of it. And even if we didn't, it would still be too short.

Well, good evening, because the sun is about to set and I must be off. Shabbat Shalom.