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this is the part in the day where i have sofreakingmuchtodo but my brain can't handle one more intelligent thought so i pull out my...ahem...pen and paper (?) and begin to write...

annual events are strange because they force me to look back on my life and evaluate what i've done, where i've gone, my progression (or digression), and then ask "why, why, why?" as is the case on this particular day. not that my brain needs to be clouded by unnecessary and unanswerable questions, but i can't help it so then i just get mad at myself for being so dumb as to allow myself to ask those unnecessary and unanswerable questions. the truth is that i'm just plan mad at myself for a lot of things.

self, you suck. shape up.

okay, good enough i guess. plus, the pretzels i just ate seem to have been halted by the ever-present lump in my throat and i just might be choking to death. better go.