First Julie's psycho stalking boyfriend called at one-something in the morning but only let the phone ring once . Five am I wake on my own, worried about time. Six-thirty it's night-time in Korea and I'm getting a bedtime call. Seven I'm up. Then I'm gone.

The workout never suffers. I was there earlier than usual, working out with the geriatric crowd. Catering to them, muzak whined overhead. I swear. I looked all around at these people moving slowly on various machines, some standing catatonic - I don't know, taking a breather I guess - and the music slow and just whining (there's no other way to say it), and I felt like I was in some kind of institution where we're all drugged and they keep the music on like in the grocery store to keep us all calm. They actually played some slowed down distortion of that song from the Jungle Book! (You know the one.) THEN, in the middle of all that crap, a Smiths' song came on! The Smiths? In with the muzak selection? What's going on here? Some kind of freaking weirdness that's what.

If it's not love then it's the bomb, the bomb, the bomb that'll bring us together.

Midterm. Not enough time. Like the classmate said when she saw me at U Village post exam: "How was it for you? You were there till the bitter end like I was." Bitter end. It was. I panicked when the time started getting short and then I couldn't think about anything and it was just terrible and frustrating and pathetic. I ran up asking the prof questions and she handed out hints liberally. Others asked questions too and I tried listening to the dialogue hoping it would help me.

Ahh. My head hurt. That's all I got to say. Hurts now too. Afterward I just needed to take a break. What I really needed was to just spend time with someone to get something going on outside my head. In my head working out. In my head studying. In my head stumbling through that exam. My brain was one big mushy scoop of ice cream, my cranium a waffle cone, and the images and words conjured there melted and dribbled. Of course, I went to Ben&Jerry's, ordered up that very metaphor and ate it in solitude, sitting outside the little store in the sunshine, watching all those rich people drive by in their SUVs. I tried to get the woman behind the counter to give me free whip cream on top of the cone but she wouldn't budge. What a witch. Portion control, I'm sure. Like Ben and Jerry know anything about portion control, porkers that they are. Give me a break.

Work sucked. Too much to do, still don't know how to do it correctly. Was there until 9. Alone. For some of the time a few counselors were there with late-night clients. Through the walls and door of one office I heard at least three people screaming at the top of their lungs at each other. In the empty corridors, the exclamations of such loathing were eerie. I found myself rushing down the hall into the sanctuary of my office, keeping the door closed.

Home. Phone calls, emails. Lodging reserved for the next few days. Car secured. Parking space found. Package picked up from Mary's with winter clothes Dave sent. Box was smaller than I had envisioned; it didn't hold much. Glad for more socks though.

Tomorrow he's here.