Everything I do seems to be the wrong thing but when I pull back and try to think of what I should be doing I come up blank. Yesterday was semi. That was fun. Dinner and stuff was cool, dancing was mildly entertaining for awhile. The DJ sucked and we got tired of dance mixes of G Unit songs ("I'll take the bullets out of 50 and put them in my .45" that's some deep meaning right there). So we left and went to Clara's house early. That was lots of fun. The evil one seems to like beating up on me (I didn't start it). I had golf balls thrown at me, bottle caps thrown at me, I was slapped, hit with a poker, thrown in a pool, and worst of all beaten with a slab of cheese. But I survived lol. So that was fun, even if Semi itself wasn't so great. But it seems like since we left the party everything has annoyed me, or frustrated me, or made me just wonder about stuff in general. I couldn't fall asleep till 4 then woke up at 6. Fell asleep and woke up at 7. Fell asleep and woke up at 8. Dozed off and woke up at 9. Since then I've had an hour of sleep and nothing to eat really so maybe that's kinda why i'm in this mood. It's a gray day, not sharply cold so as to inspire ("When the snows begin and the blasts denote") not warm enough to feel of spring. I can't find the right thing to do, but oddly enough I know what it is. I want to watch hockey. That would be perfect, Wings vs Avs on Sunday ABC hockey. The playoff race is coming down to the wire. The Joe is rocking. The players hit the ice and skate the warm up and Barry Melrose gives us his perspective on the up coming playoffs. And when its like that it doesn't matter if it's gray out and you feel like crap because for three hours you're lifted beyond yourself and into something greater. K... I'm pretty sure you need to be a hockey fan to understand any of what I was just saying. But anyway that's what I want to be doing but I can't because there is no hockey. No playoffs coming up. And that is so depressing to me because the nature of NHL hockey (of all sports really but more and more hockey is like this) is that everyone has a chance to win it all. Every team has a chance to lift the cup. Any player can score the big goals, any keeper can carry a team. But not this year. And in some ways it reflects so many things going on around me. Just a year ago I had hope for so many great things. I felt I could be a part of something bigger then myself. That we had the chance to win. We could greet the upcoming events not with fear but with hope. The political winter of America was made glorious summer by the process itself. We had a goal, something to fight for; or at the very least fight towards. I did not believe we could lose and then we did. But I think I pulled myself out of a deep dive into politics just soon enough. For awhile it was my life and if I'd been living in that part of myself that compulsively checked the polls every day, that drove to Hudson and New Hampshire and New York City to be part of the process; if I'd been living there I'd be dead. But I wasn't and I'm not. And in some way I think it will make me a better politician. Because now I can but smile when I behold infants quartered with the hands of war; all pity choked with custom of fell deeds. And when my time comes I will go ranging for revenge with Ate by my side and from these confines in a monarch's voice cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war. Shakespare certinally did know how to say it, didn't he. And finally (on edit): Bringing it all back to the poetry theme of this diary (which is weird 'cause I was never that in to poetry) I'll leave you with more wisdom from Browning's Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came. So, quiet as despair I turned from him, That hateful cripple, out of his highway Into the path he pointed. All the day Had been a dreary one at best, and dim Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim Red leer to see the plain catch its estray. For mark! No sooner was I fairly found Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two, Than, pausing to throw backwards a last view O'er the safe road, 'twas gone; grey plain all round; Nothing but plain to the horizon's bound. I might go on, naught else remained to do.