Sometimes I forget that movies are based off of real life, and real life is not based off of the movies. I went to a rugby party. Ha. I swear I was an extra in a movie. Perhaps the lead. "Bookish college sophmore goes to her first 'real' party and stays sober. See how uncomfortable she becomes ..." Setting: huge Victorian mansion on the outskirts of campus, "The Rugby House." Props: eighteen kegs, balconies, and extras peeing off them.

That's about all you need to know about the rugby party.

I think my life of solitude is making a quiet exit.

I should be happy, for some reason I'm not so sure.

I feel like whining about how no one understands me, but I stopped to think and realized it is probably because I don't let people understand me.

I hate those kind of revelations. At times like this I wish I was flexible enough to give myself a kick in the ass. I need one.