i've realized that i censor myself terribly on this diary. where once i wrote almost once a day, now i'm down to more like once or twice a week. because i can't write about: my day, that's mundane. intensely personal issues, too many people read this. philosophical ponderings, i haven't had a thought in months. which leaves: conversations about my non-existent boob job.

enough! i am writing two entries today, and i don't care who doesn't find me fascinating.

whether i'm pissed off, annoyed at the world, or frustrated enough to eat my own eyeballs (anyone else ever get that urge? no?), no bad mood can stand against the power of driving. country landscape, beautiful sky, empty roads, 55 mph or more, uplifting dmb and angry mb20. nothing better. the appeal, i think, is that driving while scream/singing allows you to almost completely clear your mind of thought (driving on autopilot; lyrics prevent other thoughts) while at the same time engage in the most life-threatening of everyday activities. it's exhilarating, for me.

then i went to the band concert, something i did more in support of my friends than for the music itself. but, as it turns out, the band was awesome and it really stirred something inside of me. see, in high school i was the biggest band geek. for a while, it was pretty much my life. but i put my clarinet down after the memorial day parade, and other than a short 3-week stint in the mc band, i haven't touched it since. but i miss it: i miss the feeling of playing a really exciting piece (the best rival orgasm, i swear), the camaraderie between the band members. i have been missing something without music in my life. band was such a huge part of my life; had things taken a different course, music really could have been my life. during the final song, i was near tears. but i don't have my instrument anymore and i have zero prospects of financing a new one. and learning the guitar, i know, won't ever compare. but maybe i'll pick it up again someday.

after the concert, josh, lani and i went to olive garden for dinner, blasting matchbox twenty there and back. nothing to report that would interest you much: just to say that, as always, we shared something special only the three of us understand. the soggiest crouton, mafia impersonations, the house of tree, bad sinatra impressions, and oh yeah, never underestimate the power of tiramisu and capellini in my fridge. i love you guys.

finally, as an open-book public service announcement, i've changed one of my three fields from fixated on to quote of the day. so once again, none of the old entries are going to make any sense. that, or assume we've had some lameass quotes of the day in recent memory.

turns out, not where but who you're with that really matters. and hurts not much when you're around.
dave matthews band