As of August 23, 2007.
210 Pounds. Inches: Arms; 16. Chest; 45. Waist, 39. Hips, 53. Thigh, 29.

A joke:

A man goes to the doctor. He says that he is extremely depressed, that life seems harsh and cruel. He says that he feels alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. The doctor says; "Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That ought to pick you up."

The man then bursts into tears.

He says. "But doctor...I am Pagliacci."

Last night was that beacon of calm nostalgia and hope that every person should turn to when they feel themselves falling into what can only be described as a depression. Not the clinical sort wherein there is some sort of rhyme or reason related to chemical imbalances, and whiny teenagers wanting validation. But the sort that manifests out of any number of pre existing emotions and causes one to fear leaving their bed, let alone house without someone holding their hand.

Though there were not stars, it was one of the clearest nights I've had in nearly a month and a half. Something about the water at two in the morning, an old friend, and tea can alleviate that though, and it is for all purposes; a miraculous equation.

I had forgotten about this damnable thing until Julie reminded me of it, and considering my livejournal has lost all favor with myself. I turn to this, as I seem to do at the unhappy start of every new school year.