Its the weekends...

that make me feel like the most alone person in Chicago


I really liked this bit from Love in the Time of Cholera:

He was still to young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past.

I should remember that quote in times like these. What time is it? Oh that time of the weekend when I'm ready to give up and either A: Move into a parent's basement or B: Beg to be taken back and return to SF.

How can a silent telephone make me so mad? Isn't solitude what I wanted?