I picked up a book

I waited a week.

I didn't want to be biased. I didn't want it to affect my feelings for the poor book. It can't help but be perfect and absolutely wonderful.

So what did I do?

I sat in the grass with a fuzzy yellow blanket that keeps me calm at night and a red spiral notebook opened to a blank blue-striped page. I listened to music and played around with my newly-strung guitar, the acoustics sounding better than ever. I wrote, and continue to write about everything and anything and sometimes nothing at all. I stared at the clouds as we drive by, looking at the the colors that the sun caused on the ones above, and the ones miles away. I went to a baseball game and watched the drunk fans look for their cars with wheels and doors in frustration after the loss. I convinced someone that rain has a smell, a fantastic smell, after they bluntly claimed it had no aroma at all.

But mostly-I didn't try to forget-I tried to suppress my anxiety. August 24th is such a long way away, and I will be in school. Its such a bad combination.

...and there I go again... (to self: suppressssss)

But the week went quickly, and now I think I am back to normal. Now I can get back to those books. :)