where troubles melt like lemon drops, way above the chimney tops

that's where you'll find me.

i don't know why, but i feel so overwhelmed and sad tonight. i feel like i won't be able to get everything i need to get done before spring break. i should stay in this weekend and work on my lab report and read (oh, so much reading . . . ), but i don't want to. i feel silly because spring break is so close. i feel really distant from everyone. i'm sad because i've been a sloppy, dozing mess in all my classes this week.

i don't know what's wrong with me!

oh gosh . . . i'm never going to get my work done . . .

EDIT
How useful it would be to put a daily limit on self-pity. – Mitch Albom

all right, i'm kicking it into high gear. i couldn't focus before, but now that i've remembered that mitch albom quote, i've decided not to be miserable.

Ca ira mieux l'an prochain.

French phrase of the day for Tuesday, Feb. 26: "Better luck next year."

when i grow up, i want a cowboy
with dust all over his jeans
with a horse named jack and a ten-gallon hat
he is nice, but he looks so mean
if you were a cowboy, i wonder could i be your girl?

hum-dee-da
too much to do! when am i going to finish my history reading (de tocqueville, recollections: the french revolution of 1848) or my french reading (schwarz-bart, ton beau capitaine - really fascinating concept for a play, by the way; a man plays cassette-recording "letters" from his wife who's in another country, he's the only person onstage)

i need to sleep, but when! tell me, quando, quando, quando!

tonight will be the night that I will fall for you

But hold your breathe
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you, over again
Don't make me change my mind
Or I wont live to see another day

French phrase of the day for Friday, Feb. 22:
Les films ne sont plus ce qu'ils etaient. "They don't make movies like they used to."
I saw Michael Clayton in the UC last night. I liked it. I slept through a bit of it. But Elaine explained the confusing parts to me afterwards. Achronological movie plots have gotten a little trendy . . . Too much, lately.

French phrase of the day for Saturday, Feb. 16:
Vivement qu'il fasse beau. "The warm weather will be a treat."
Pittsburgh, please be spring, soon.

Gimme gimme s'more

The world is your snowball, see how it grows,
Thats how it goes, whenever it snows,
The world is your snowball just for a song,
Get out and roll it along!
It's a yum-yummy world made for sweethearts,
Take a walk with your favorite girl,
It's a sugar date, what if spring is late?
In winter, it's a marshmallow world!

que sera, sera

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Ugh what am I going to do with my life. Even though I told a friend today that it's not a crime to not be stressed, I still don't feel like I'm living adequately unless I'm in crisis mode. In complete contradiction with my love for peace of mind and clarity. Well, I've gone through both of those and back again in about . . . three hours.

Chloe spoke at IVCF tonight about "God's Heart for the City," an anecdotal, "In the Cit-ay," touching, funny, informative and all-around sobering account of her experiences with urban outreach/restoration (and approach to the Gospel). I was floored. I mean, I knew the world was poor . . . Actually, no, that's not true. I knew there were poor in the world. But no, I did not know that 40% of the people in the world live on 2 USD a day. Chloe did a nice price analysis for us of what $4/day would afford in Mexico (she just got back from a weekend trip), and she was left with 70c for "water, sanitation, rent, taxes, transportation, health care, entertainment, vacation, toiletries, tithing, saving, college education, school uniforms, etc." Oh, and before she became the IVCF director for the Pittsburgh-Metro area, she was on her way to becoming a concert pianist. Yeah. She was studying at Julliard. She gave it up for a position on IVCF staff.

So what am I doing, exactly . . . ? We're talking about the Restoration in French history: We discuss the plight of the middle class, the plight of the artisanal factions, the crisis of the socially mobile (actually immobile) "in-migrants" from rural France, the post-Revolutionary political upheaval, anti-Revolutionary sentiment, anti-monarchical sentiment. Life was pretty bad for the working class before the Revolution - afterwards, too - so are 19th century suicide statistics in the Paris region an accurate representation of the social demography for that time, that place? They've been categorized by age, sex, occupation, time of day, time of year, and method. No, they aren't accurate for that purpose because there are other factors to consider.

And life was bad in the past and it's bad in the present, and I feel like I should be able to process this on a much deeper level, but all I feel is a hollow pretense of a headache, sort of like when I have to fake a hangover for a scene in "Proof."

I feel like I really owe the world something. I feel like I should do something. But what? Gosh, sometimes I feel like I could be that person who makes a huge difference all on her own. I want it so much, sometimes, that I actually believe I could be her. I thought that for a second tonight.

I owe the world everything and myself nothing. But not just the world, I owe certain people certain things . . . and I'd say I owe the people I know personally a lot more than the impoverished I have never met. So I will spend Spring Break with my family and friends, even though I'm telling everyone in IVCF to go to the Pittsburgh Urban Plunge, even though I'm distraught over not going myself, even though I feel like, maybe, that's where I should be? What if? Chloe said (the Bible says, Mother Theresa said) we need the poor, not the other way around. And?

And when I wake up in the morning, I don't want to stop feeling like this, I don't want to forget what I'm feeling. But being in a perpetual state of turmoil is definitely unhealthy. And inevitably I get happy and sidetracked and forget that over two billion people live daily on the tip I gave to the guy who delivered my Chinese food last night.

Pray, pray, pray . . . And listen to "Faith," by George Michael (P.S. ELI STONE on ABC, watch the pilot!).

Possible things to give up for Lent: Hitting the sleep button on my alarm clock (not getting up as soon as I hear my alarm), feeling sorry for myself, letting my laundry sit in the basket after I take it out of the dryer,

I gave up AIM one year, I think it was either 7th, 8th or 10th grade. Last year, about halfway through Lent, I decided I'd give up crushing on boys.

Hm well I haven't decided yet for this year. Que sera, sera. I'll stay away from candy for a while in case I can't think of anything else . . .

When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead?
Will we have rainbows, day after day?
Here's what my sweetheart said.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

French phrases of the day for Monday, Feb. 4, and Tuesday, Feb. 5:
J'ai dormi à poings fermés. "I slept like a baby." True for Monday night, not for last night or tonight.
Je me suis reveillée a l'aube ce matin. "I woke up very early this morning." Not true for Tuesday morning; will be true for Wednesday morning.

Ooh you know what else I could give up? Putting off dropping my self-paced Italian class. I actually did some of the homework exercises last night while I was waiting for my delivery dinner. Preliminary chapter and chapter 1, out of chapters 0-4 (test next week). Um . . . or maybe just commit to pacing myself better. In everything. Gosh.