I'm on duty this weekend and so far it feels like house arrest. I mean it. I'm so incredibly bored and antsy. I'm even in the mood to go work-out, if you can believe that. But what I really want to do is go swimming. I'm tempted to disappear from here tomorrow, stow away to my parent's house and take claim of the pool--wait a minute, did I just write "my paret's house"? Since when it did it become theirs and not mine? I have a room there, I spend time there...Correction of previous statement, I wish to go to MY house. It's been one hell of a week. I could go for a cosmopaliton, only because that's Carrie Bradshaw's drink and I've watched an entire season and a half in a span of four days. What can I say, I've just needed a break and nothing quite does it like Sex and the City. It always reminds me how much I miss New York and how badly I still wish to live there. I think I've discovered my career identity crisis. I want to be too many people. I'm a wild spirit who has somehow become comfortable living a tamed life. I'm doing things the correct way, the acceptable way. One version of me ran off a few years ago and has been hitch-hiking across the globe. She was probably killed because, let's face it, the world isn't safe for an adventerous seventeen-year-old, which is perhaps why I'm here, in college. Another version of me went to a univeristy on the East-coast, which wouldn't have been so bad. Except she might be single, or dating some creative nutt, smoking, and drinking every weekend. She might have tried pot, but chances are she wouldn't have liked it. Her grades would definitely not be as good as they are now. Still another version of me would be here, but perhaps living somewhere else and definitely not pursuing a career in journalism. Perhaps there are two versions here. One would be on the stage, heavily involved with theatre, frequently going through stages of depression and ultimate bliss. The other would be trying her hand at teaching, writing lots of papers and essays and have no friends. So, based on assumptions, I think I'm in a good place, no matter how hellish the week goes. My challenge now is revising my 10-minute play for my playwriting class, which is, (though it deflates my courage to continue) a travesty. I'm getting nowhere and wanting so much to can it and start from scratch. But I think I'm in love with Dollface and her very phsyical relationship to Billy. I just can't figure out the message, the metaphore, the meaning. Such is life. Carrie