I’m heading back home next weekend, but I’ll be going straight to John’s cottage when I arrive there, so it’ll be more than eight hours traveling by bus and car. Aaron’s also going back home, so we might take the bus there and the plane back, depending on how cheap the airfare is. I can’t wait to head up to John’s cottage and take part in the Scottish bagpipe parade that runs through the town every weekend during the summer. It’s become a sort of ritual now, every time I go up, along with the nighttime car rides and assuming my role as the token Chinese guy. I can’t believe how many memories I have at that cottage, and what John and I have been through for better or for worse there.

Darren should be coming up in two or so weeks to visit. Hopefully we’ll get a chance to watch Waking Life, along with playing some Frozen Throne and Magic. I’m sure Darren needs to relax more than I do, after his summer job.

I’ve decided to put off my job search until the end of the summer, and simply enjoy what I have now.

Running on about two and a half hours of sleep, I stay awake as I try to rehydrate myself. My throat is completely hoarse from having to shout at the Honest Lawyer for five hours. I feel exhausted and emotional. Why must I always think and always wonder? Am I placed in these situations, or do I make too much of too little? I wish I could silence my mind.

Sometimes, I need to cry to know I’m alive.

Jackee has been sent me the entire Postal Service album, Give Up, which is a great blend of soothing electronica with even more demulcent vocals. An interesting fact about this group is that their name comes from the process used in the creation of the album, consisting of mailing musical parts from one member to the other in order to complete a song.

She also sent me some J-Pop music videos of Mini Moni and The Pillows. J-Pop has never really been my thing, but I can’t seem to stop watching these hyperactive clips of girls running around pretending to be Power Rangers, or the wacky antics of male frontmen. There’s something mesmerizing about these culturally rich videos, almost as if a subliminal message has been implanted, telling me that I love the flashy colours and rubbery facial expressions. When a clip is done, I don’t know whether I should watch again or have an epileptic seizure.

There must be an entire cat worth of hair in the garbage next to my desk.