A watched pot won't ever boil.

Is that the correct metaphor for where I am (or am not) with S.D.? He cut his hair, and I wish he hadn't, but he gave me the best face when I brought him the comics, so I didn't mind.

Sigh.

I went to U2! In Dallas! Out of 95,000 people, I was one of the lucky who got to be less than five feet away from the band (when they were on the runway). Basically, made of win. Best birthday present ever? I have been waiting to see U2 in concert since I understood what a concert was. 

Righteous.

But, frankly, it's a little lackluster when no one else gets how big a deal it was for me. Because ya'll don't really know a lot about U2 and/or don't really like them.

Sigh.

I love ya'll anyway.

I'll write more letters soon. If I remember. I have to remember to ask him for the CD, too- remind me. (Go up to me and say, "Imogen Heap." Then walk away. It'll be like a Bond film.)

Speaking of letters, real ones that you write on paper and give people are awesome, too. We should have a letter system at LASA. Instead of lockers, mail boxes. Mail is way more important than lockers, anyway. Speaking of lockers, Amani, can I still have yours? I've got a lock.

My brain is reeling and my fingers can hardly keep up.

I'm leaving you with a link: http://teenink.com/fiction/romance/article/86180/Improvising/

The long and short of it is that it is one of the best short stories describing what is like to love/crush on/like/whatever someone that I have ever read. Obviously, I'm particularly sensitive to the subject matter right now, but I honestly think it's fab. Plus-which, it's written by a Brit. So that pretty much makes it fancy.

Go read it.

<3

Cheerio.