I stepped outside myself last night, and in the end, I began to wonder if I had not stepped outside my self at all, but rather, was my self completely. Did I have a good time? I went home saying "no, I had a miserable time" which is only half true. I spent the afternoon running errands; bought some really nice stationary for my club for our Valentine fund raiser, some streamers for band, and then met Nikki to go to the mall so we could both do some exchanges. From there, we went to Kay's house and then decided on a game of put-put. Making a very long story short (I had to hear the night being retold about six times before it was even over), we walked around the car show, stood in a McDonald's parking lot, drove to a pizza place for no reason, and then made the treck up to DR to meet up with half the world. Nik and K both ran into their ex's, so that made the night even more awkward. We shivered, Nik got hurt about ten times, and to cut to the end, I had to once again blow-off Adam because something in me told me to. No, that's not right. Everything in me told me to call him back and say "let's go", my idiotic self said no. So I went home. I picked up my book and read till 1, then fell asleep to horrible dreams. Nik and I went to school a couple times yesterday to check the cast list and got word from Mr. T that it would most likely be up Sunday (today). I think Nik is going down to check. I don't want to know. I really don't. I'd rather die not knowing. Truth is, I just don't know if I can handle being disappionted again. So, for the sake of my hopes, please don't tell me I did a great job at the audition. Tell me I sucked so I can fully believe I didn't make it. Because I didn't. I can feel it. I was the first one awake this morning. I got up, washed up a bit, and started my laundry. Then I went downstairs and opened my book. I'm a bit apathetic to the world right now. That's what happens when I'm in it too long. It felt wonderful to sink into the pages and listen to Carrie Bell for hours. I put it down when the phone started ringing it's double ring- the signal for a long distant phone call, meaning it could only be coming from back east and chances were, it was Grandma. It was. I let my parents to themselves on the padio, talking, dialing, answering. When it was all over, I asked what had happened. Aunt Anna passed away. Grandma had taken her to the hospital because she wasn't eating and so forth. When she brought her back home, she died not 48 hours later. She was a mean old witch, but that doesn't make the fact any lighter to deal with. Actually, I feel very sorry for her. She didn't go the way she wanted to. She wanted to die in her apartment in the city, the apartment she'd been in for ages; alone. That's how she wanted to go. Instead, she died in my grandmother's house in Pennsylvania, and once again my grandmother was there to witness the departure of a loved one. She blames herself and as much as we tell her she did the right thing by taking her to the hospital, she blames herself. I hate Sundays. I hate Sundays for a lot of reasons. I'll never get married on a Sunday. The sabbath here just always seems like a day of bad news. I've got work to do. Carrie