Lately, I've been feeling like a passenger in my own life.

That feeling is echoed in entirely too many aspects of my existence.

I've been going out every nearly night and almost every weekend for the past several weeks (months?) in a row. Its not that I'm complaining, mind you. I really enjoy all the time I've spent out and about, relishing in the sights and sounds of the world, hanging out with friends, being entertained... It's just tiring.

In this movie, some person hears that a friend's wife's (or something like that) labor lasted somewhere in the neighborhood of 36 hours. The respond with, "I don't even want to do something that feels *good* for that long."

I'm in *that* neighborhood of raw.

Is it possible to have too much fun? I didn't think so... but maybe I'm wrong.

Besides all of the hardcore partying and fun I've been up to, I was also sick. Until November 1, when I started taking antibiotics, I was coughing and hacking up crap for two weeks! Eesh. Now, I'm just barely feeling better and have I still have a few weeks left of insanity before I can really chill. I think... between the week or two after thanksgiving and Christmas, I *must* not do anything!

heh, good luck, self.

*shakes hand and gives a one-shiny-tooth smile*

fat chance.