im not a fan of black. sometimes i feel like i look like death, but a little blush and concealer do the trick. i dont do death metal, britney is more my style. im not a morbid person, i do bows and flowers on everything (sometimes both like today). but im interested death topics, end of life care, and coping with death dying in the hospital. one of my latest endeavors is to organize a student run group that allows open discussion and support surrounding this subject. we had our first meeting last week which was awesome, great conversation, everyone should come. eventually, ill write more about it (and maybe, just maybe, officially).
so today i got an email from a girl that was like 'hey, when is the next meeting?'. end. thats it. what did i write back, you ask? i might have gotten so excited that i wrote back this long rant about how happy i was, what year she was, any thoughts or suggestions, help with organizing, leadership, hopes, dreams, meaning of life, mothers maiden name, etc. a little overboard, yes. the response i got 'i am a first year. just let me know when you are meeting'. end.
i guess im still excited. but i was more exciteder before. im desperate for a protege.
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