Everyone else is friends only, so I figured I would be too. Yeah, I'm a sheep like that but whatever. Comment to be added.

I'm in Boston for the weekend, hanging out with Pat. I needed a change of scenery (not that Boston is really much of a change...?) and just needed to get out for a few days. The whole driving to keep my mind off of things was getting kind of old. I'll be doing plenty of that during the season, anyway.

Jen, dinner when I'm back in town?

We had done nothing but fight for the past two months. We started falling apart at the end of the season; burn out, I guess. We went to Paris together, just the two of us, right before she moved to Pennsylvania and it was off to Russia for me for a few weeks to work with Tarasova, and we couldn't even keep it together then. You're supposed to go to The Louvre to see art, not to spend three hours fighting with your girlfriend. Russia was supposed to help. The distance and the time apart (as if there weren't enough of it already) was supposed to help both of us clear our heads. It didn't work.

I told her about Jen a couple of days after we slept together. I would have told her sooner had she not been screening her calls. There was a lot of shouting, a lot of crying, a lot of silence. I apologized and told her that I hadn't meant to hurt her, got yelled at again, and eventually said that I wasn't sure if we had much of a relationship to salvage at that point. More yelling and more tears until she decided that that was enough for one night and that she would call again the next night once we had both thought this out more. So she did. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I was supposed to fly out to Pennsylvania next weekend to visit for a week. Instead, I'm rooting through my apartment, packing up whatever stuff she still has here, and shipping it to her. She said she would do the same for me when she found the time.

Evan's new favorite shirt, because you know you're curious.

So I forgot that this journal existed.

Wait, I need a better excuse than that.

Uh...a project in journal autonomy. Yeah, that's it. I figured that I'd just let this thing write itself for a while and see where it went. Apparently it didn't get very far. Much like its owner, apparently it needs a map or a trusty GPS system. TomTom is my personal favorite, for those of you in the market. Because despite driving to Kwan's house on a somewhat regular basis, I still get lost sometimes. It's kind of pathetic and I probably shouldn't have admitted to that, but too late.

And on that note, I promise that the next time you see me on your friends page, I'll have something more interesting to write about than an annoying automated voice telling me whether I should turn right or left on Wilshire.

( [OOC Note] )

My blue sweatshirt has a giant red heart on it. My backpack says "Evan" in multi-colored shiny plastic. My iPod says "I <3 Johnny" on the back in pink. The rings on my Olympic baseball hat are all sparkly. And to top it all off, I now have a pair of really blinged out boxers.

I think I know who stole the Bedazzler.