One more year . . . is that too much to ask? (Yes.)

If I were one year older, I would be turning 21 next month. I would really really appreciate turning 21 while I'm here, where drinking is such an important part of life. On the other hand, though, if I were to begin drinking here, I would be an alcoholic by the time I turned 22. As it is, I don't teetotal because I'm underage, necessarily; the illegality of it hardly enters the picture. It just makes a convenient excuse to not do it. The truth is that I don't really want to drink, except on rare occasions when I want to do something really stupid and would like the excuse of being tipsy/drunk. Which, by the way, is a terrible excuse.

I went out with Angela last night. We went a Japanese restaurant and sat at the sushi bar and she picked all the sushi because I don't know anything about it. And it was really really good, but I can't figure out how sushi manages to be so filling. And then we went to the British pub directly below the Japanese restaurant, and Angela drank wine all night and I drank coffee, and the funny thing was the end effect was virtually the same. (Loss of self-restraint, continual trips to the restroom, dehydration . . . ) Jessica kept saying the other night that when you get drunk, you need to put your phone away. Jessica was right, but we didn't do it, and we probably both raised our phone bills by about $50 in text messages. Whoops. I need to cut down the texting anyway.

Went running with Dane yesterday morning . . . It was Language Day, so there was no school, so we skipped out early and went running. I don't know what possessed me to go running voluntarily, except that it was a nice day and I'm feeling sort of out of shape these days. Now my back is sore because after running, I did a couple chin-ups. A couple chin-ups got no right to make me hurt like that. I don't think the sunburn helps; after running we went to the beach with Jamie and Dane flew his kite. Jamie tried to stay on rocks the whole time; evidently she doesn't like sand. We stopped at Wendy's before going and had a Wendy's picnic on the rocks on the beach. Good times . . . and sunburn . . . yes . . . sunburn . . . cleanse me of my neon-whiteness . . .