I just got back from NYC. This is how I know I'm manic-depressive: I got really upsetting news from SMATWADKU involving my financial aid on Thursday, mid afternoon, and decide to either cut my wrists or say fuck it all and take a trip to NYC. As soon as I got home, I packed my shit and took off. I made it there around noon on Friday and got home at 5 am this morning. I miss it already. However, I had planned on taking the trip and then cutting my wrists and now I don't want to do that, so I must give NYC props for inadvertently averting my untimely (or just in timely) death.
On the way back, I also stopped off in D.C. I didn't get to see too much because I was only there for about half a day, but it was cool (not nearly as cool as NYC of course). I'm glad I dropped by there just in case I never get to in the future.
There is far more to say about my trip but I'm far too tired to say it. My legs hurt, my feet are blistered, my voice is gone, and my heart is full. It's good to feel alive for a change.