Do you don't you want me to love you?

I woke up this morning gasping for breath and ready to fight. I looked around my room and my six pillows had been strewn everywhere. Three on the floor, one at the foot of the bed, one in the crack between the bed and the wall, and the one that I usually sleep with under my head sitting shoved away from my head, but at eye level.

I thought for a second, had I been dreaming? A scary man with a beard came to my thoughts first. And drugs. And Spanish. A clear sign that you've been watching way too much CSI:Miami and Law and Order:CI is when you're actually dreaming that you've been used as a drug mule, along with hundreds of other Latin American women, for a big shot drug lord...

Then I thought, huh, maybe my dream was some sort of sign? Do I know any bearded men? My yoga teacher! Did I have a test in 15 minutes I didn't know about? I checked the syllabus, no I didn't. Not only that, but yoga was great today. We talked about nasal lavages...

In my Religion and the Law Class, I got perhaps the best assignment ever. For my introductory law class, I made a good decision in this one. Usually when I fight with people, it's pulling on emotional heart strings, really unfair and stupid. When I have an argument in this class, it's with logic. I know, not my strong point. My dad called me his "little sea lawyer" as a child, that should be replaced with "my little first amendment lawyer".

Erin and I are getting together tomorrow to go thrift store shopping for sweet leotards and tutus for the Shuck's ice skating party. Frank made the massive mistake of telling me his birthday, which I remembered, and then remembered would be within days of the party. We are going to give him a cake. Chances that he will be very uncomfortable? High. We're also making ourselves some sweet shirts for the Oyster Roast. It's going to be epic.

I think I'm going to get some taco bell.