It's always interesting to me how when something serious and rather unexpected happens, you're suddenly able to remember all the little trivial details and conversation that happened prior to it, which you otherwise would have forgotten entirely. Normally I always pick up a few new facts from every academic team practice, but today a lot the questions from last night are now permanently stuck in my head. Gertrude Stein wrote "Four Saints in Three Acts," and Thompson wrote the opera. BCS theory is Bardeen, Cooper, and Schrieffer. Dalton was colorblind and liked to play lawn bowling. Sartre was 4'11". I could keep going, but I won't.

Walking back from practice with Jake (yes, I've decided to go with first names, now... too many people I know have the same initials) we got to talking about the leftover vodka in his fridge, and whether it would end up being drunk, or just disposed of. Didn't have anything to do last night, so drinking was an option. Jake noted that we didn't have anything to mix it with, although considering how bad vodka tastes it might just be better to go with a small amount of vile tasting liquid than a lot of fairly bad tasting liquid. Me: "True, but I'm the kind of person who spends five minutes removing band-aids." Him: "Oh. I just rip them off, myself."

["Danger. Danger, Will Robinson."]

Right now may be the only time that I ever appreciate having a hangover. I've got a headache and feel nauseous and generally icky, and it's a perfectly valid physiological explanation for all of that. Though to be honest, I could probably ascribe most of this as much to the phrase "well, I think we should still be friends" as to the alcohol. I'm being rather circuitous in explaining things, aren't I? Sorry. Jake broke up with me last night... I'm still sort of, I don't know, lost or something, which I suppose comes through in the (lack of) clarity of this narrative. Started drinking after that. Bottling emotions up is not so easy after a few shots, which is good, because it's something I'm far to effective at doing. "What? You're breaking up with me? ...Oh. That sucks. We'll still be friends? Right. Fantastic. So, uh, when does this start, exactly?"

Trust me, I could have continued in that vein for a while. It's this thing.. I can't help it... I always want to make things okay, I guess. Dan pointed that out to me a while ago, and he's completely right. So instead I drank, almost certainly too much, though I don't regret it, I don't think. Didn't get angry at Jake (and I'm still not... no reason to be), but was finally able to cry. Answering the question "what are you thinking?" is also much easier when drunk. Not that I'm any closer to knowing what I'm thinking at the moment. Quite the opposite, in fact... *Sigh*. I should go get something to eat, and maybe try to find Jim. Should try calling him at work again, I guess. At any rate, enough of this writing stuff. I'm all confused, and I'd really rather not talk about it any more.