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Lately, I've been Memphis's Crabbiest Person (and I'm willing to bet that I'm in the top five of the Southeastern United States, as well.) I am unable to deal with people; the most trifling things perturb me beyond belief. In the lunch line the other day, there was this girl wearing a bright pink sweater, a black miniskirt, and those pointy high heels that I hate because if your feet aren't correctly-shaped, I can see your disfigured, squeezed-in toes peeking out. Oh, and I should mention that this young lady's shoes were bright pink, to match her exquisite sweater. Seeing her gnarled digits crammed into those awful shoes...

A different day in the lunch room, I was looking at the back of a different girl's head. Her hair was a little mussed, and I felt like grabbing her and shaking her, yelling at her to get her act together, buy a brush, something, anything. Just before I reached my hand out to take hold of her shoulders, I looked down at my own smashing ensemble: sweatshirt, jeans (probably worn a few times since they'd last been washed), no makeup. Needless to say, I restrained myself and brooded in silence.

Today was a warm day and I found myself irritated immensely by the sightings of several bare midriffs throughout the day. I can't even convey why it was annoying, but it was. Tanktops in winter? I want people to wear real clothes in January, I guess, even if it is 55 degrees outside. However, now that I'm dressed to go out for the evening, I see my own inch-high strip of flesh hovering between my jeans and exceedingly-cute chocolate-brown tie-in-back V-neck. Oh well. Drew will just have to deal with me and my hypocritical shirt.

None of these things make terribly much sense: normally, fashion faux pas don't make me volver loca this way. I'm not sure what it is, but it doesn't help that I'm thwarted with a chronic headache behind my left eye. It mostly hurts when I move my eyes without turning my head first, or when I have to speak loudly (for example, bellowing, "COME IN!" multiple times so that people will just enter the darn room) or sing (Music class: bane of my existence! I actually got a menacing glare from Prof. Watkins for not singing along; I was, however, able to lead the class marching through Hassell Hall--demonstrating the duple simple rhythm--without conjuring too much white-hot stabbing pain spearing the left part of my brain.)

I asked Olivia if she thought her dad (a doctor) would tell me I had a brain tumor, and she said no--it's more likely stress or anxiety. I'll settle with The Worst Sinus Attack I've Ever Had. It feels sinus-y by the way I press on things (my left eye especially--but only the left eye; the right is fine.) I feel like my head is swelling to larger and larger sizes as we speak. Maybe Dr. Fischer (the astronomer who gave a talk last night in the Ballroom) would say my head has two Jupiter-masses. It sure feels that way.