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I love Oranges.

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Apr. 30th, 2001 | 06:04 pm
mood: blahblah
music: Michael Jackson - Man In The Mirror

I think that oranges are an extremely well designed fruit. They break apart easily into convenient little slices that are perfect for consumption.

I can't believe I'm writing about oranges.

So now the question becomes where exactly does one go after two senseless, pointless statements like that? You don't know? Good, that makes two of us. Except for the fact that I am the writer here and am thus obligated to say something that is of some value.

I went and danced for the first time in... too long last night. Next time I must remember to bring water -- I get short winded and then tired too easily. But it felt good to just move like that and cover so much space. I need that physical balance, I think. I need to exercise for the endorphins or something. I don't know. But it felt good and I feel good and I'm glad that I did it.

So now to make a plan for exercising and sticking to it. Joy.

I am caught in an odd place right now. I feel like I should be doing work, like I want to do work, even, and yet the weather is so lovely and inviting that I am quite content to sit at my computer and type and daydream and watch the hours melt away. And it occurs to me that I should eat at some point, having had only a tootsie pop and two small oranges to sustain me today. These eating habits are most certainly not healthy. I am looking forward to next year when I will take up space in the refrigerator and add fruits and vegetables back into my diet, and when I will enjoy food and cooking for myself and not feeling ridiculous or like I am getting in anyone's way.

And I definitely will not miss dorm food.

I am stressed. I am glad that school is ending, but I do not want it to end because I do not want to go home. I do not want to see the people from my old life who are in so many ways just shadows of something I once was. It's funny. Everything mattered so much in high school. My grades mattered, my friends mattered -- whether I knew the "right" people, whether I wore the "right" clothes... it all mattered. And now I look back at it and say to myself that when it comes down to the end of things, it's really not at all important. I wonder if I will say that about college. It doesn't seem like I will, somehow -- the people who are your friends in college tend to be more lifelong friends, I think, because it is in college where you get the chance to discover who you really are and what's really important to you. I had inklings of these pieces of myself in high school, of course, but I know that I have changed in probably more ways than I am even aware of since I have been here.

I am afraid to go back. I am afraid to see people... because there will be expectations of what I am like and should be like... and I am concerned that I will not live up to those expectations. But such things must be faced, I suppose.

Everybody is preparing to move out. The walls are becoming white again, no longer decorated with pictures and posters and lights and everything that made this room so homey before. It is a feeling of things ending, and it seems like it's happening suddenly, before I am ready for it to happen. But perhaps that's just me.

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