Since my last update, I’ve spent a few days in Indy and the rest of the week Craig was here with me. I had to go to classes and work all week so I felt bad that he was stuck on campus with me most of the time, though he didn’t seem to mind. He left early this morning and I had a hard time slipping back into my routine after I said goodbye to him–hugging and kissing him out by his car in the street. The fog was heavy, which I usually love because I like to drive around in it and pretend I’m somewhere totally new, but this morning I wished it were clear and sunny instead.

After he left for work, I came in to go back to bed–thankful that it was Saturday and that other than getting some freelancing done, I had no obligations for the day. I set my alarm for noon. Then it went off. Then I set it for one. Then it went off again. I think it was close to three o’clock by the time I actually decided to get up and, as usual after he’s left, the whole morning seemed like something I sleepwalked (is that even a word?) through.

The semester is finally about over and I’m so goddamn thankful for it. Just one final exam to get through on Tuesday, along with a mass mailing to put out at work, and I’ll be off until January. I still don’t know how I’ll quite pay for next semester, especially with the ambitious Las Vegas-spring-break trip planning Craig and I did this week, but I guess I always figure out a way to make things work.

All I know is I can never complain about my own life. I say it all the time but only because it’s true. I can’t complain. But I can keep (and, in fact, can’t stop) worrying about everybody else in my life, especially with the insanity of the past week. Shooting rampages? A homicide right across the street from campus? It makes me sad about the world I live in, but even more sad and scared for the world my little sister is growing up in and for the career my boyfriend is in. I wonder what drives people to do these things and I also wonder if maybe more schools should follow suit in allowing teachers to carry concealed weapons in classrooms. Would it have made a difference in this case? Maybe. I think it’s been reported that the lunatic was wearing a bulletproof vest, but maybe something could have been done.

I remember being in my freshman year at EMU, sitting in one of my political science classes and noticing that one of my classmates had a gun on his waistband. It made me uncomfortable at the time–even once I learned that he was a police officer. I hated the idea of it. Today, I’ve gotta say that nothing would make me feel safer. Maybe my views have become biased in the past year or so from dating a cop–or maybe I’m just now beginning to realize how fucked up the world actually is and how maybe the best answers to psychos with guns are trained people with guns–I don’t know. I should probably just get back to watching “Beyond the Sea” for the third time tonight and be happy for another day.