I get kind of hectic inside

One of the little glitches that comes with hanging out with lots of GBFs is that you start listening to Mariah Carey and Justin Timberlake. Not only that, but when you admit it, instead of laughing at you as should be appropriate, your GBFs give you affirmations and snaps instead.

Lack of sleep makes me loopy. I found myself chatting up people this morning in a seeming drug-addled nervous giddiness. That's how boring I am at times- my coworkers will probably stage an intervention to tell me I need to get some sleep.

It is actually W's fault. We are probably the worst penpals in the history of penpals. When we were younger, it was even worse, for drama-ridden reasons- there were whole gaps in our history because we were off having a pout and shutting each other out for months on end. Now, the gaps are unintentional. He lives on a different continent, and even taking away the geography, we are in wildly different points in our life. Taking that into account and throwing in sloppy helpings of our busy schedules and our lackadaisical attitude about keeping in touch, it takes the kettle bubbling over to induce us to write.

Then again, sometimes it is okay to take friends for granted. In fact, sometimes that is the whole beauty of a good friendship. I have known W longer than any other close friend, and we seem to have this built-in mechanism of sensing that we are drifting too far apart. When that happens, we snap back together as if we are a rubberband that was pulled taut and let free.

Yesterday, he dropped the bomb that he is planning a trip out here to visit. Most likely in January. I know better than to get worked up about such things. He is almost as bad as TMB as far as dangling the promise of visiting the Bay Area and then flaking out (I keed, TMB!) goes. Come to think of it, I am on shaky ground- I have been making mention of visiting W in Europe for over a year now and I never got around to it. All the same, the mere possibility of him visiting made me heady for all of yesterday. I have not seen him for three years, which is definitely a record, even for our sorry friendship.

Three years. That is what kept me up last night. Three years- thinking about it made me realize how much passed by in those three years. With both of the two friends I have kept since college, I have witnessed such profound shifts. They are not anything like they were when I first met them. And yet they are. There is still some piece of them that remains mine, or ours. I do not know if I have changed that radically. I probably have, but it is hard to notice such things, despite being introspective and navel-gazing to the point of blogging. I have been here all this time, so the changes seem rather gradual and slight. But maybe the cumulative effect transforms me to someone altogether different from who I was.

In other giddiness news, the broseph did really well on the GMAT, a beast he's been wrangling for quite a torturous while now. I am so happy for him that I could explode. He has really struggled with this- broseph's like the anti-Indian as far as standardized tests go, and he also suffers from chronic laziness. So, turning it around and getting his act together on this test is no small feat for him. I told him to go to Union Square, run up the stairs in a jogging suit, and do the Rocky dance, but he sounded like he was not leaning towards taking my advice.

I am determined to determine how to make pie crust from scratch tonight. I predict disasters galore, and that's just the part where I try to go to the grocery store two days before Thanksgiving.