Home! I'm fucking going home! I miss...everything. And then I'm going to be away again. Is that wise? Probably not. Am I going to do it anyway? Of course. Am I as reckless as I'm trying to make myself sound? Absolutely not.

Advice: if anyone asks you if you're with the private party, say yes. It will undoubtedly result in free stuff of one nature or another.

My roommate's getting laid. I, however, am not. Such is the way of things. Once somebody hid my hair gel because they thought I looked better without it.

I'm going to have to take pictures. My thoughts on photography are heavily influenced by Alex Garland's 'The Beach', wherein he writes something to the effect of: don't take too many photographs, because everything else fades and the photograph is all you have left. Suffice to say, I don't want to forget how the mountains look clearer and closer than everything else, and how the sky does something different every day, which often resembles frozen yogurt but never fails to change the world.