Last night I went back to my room after getting gummi bears for Club Fair and a season of an unnamed tv show (unnamed because I'm embarrassed, but if you know me, you probably know what it is) and I read for awhile (schoolwork, but it's for Latin American Women Writers, so it was really enjoyable) and then fell asleep. Sara came and woke me up to go to Jazz Night, realized I was too deep in sleep to go to Jazz Night and then I fell back asleep for several more hours.

That was all incredibly pointless.

Anyways, I woke up around midnight, took a shower and realized I was very awake. I watched some episodes of the unnamed tv show and tried to go back to sleep, but I kept thinking. Uusually when I am awake at 2:00AM and don't want to be, I get unhappy, as was the case last night. But I wasn't unhappy about something in particular, I was unhappy about the fact that I seem so unhappy and don't quite know how to fix it. It made me wonder if people are ever really unhappy about anything except the loss of their happiness, which sounds awful and selfish, but it's just something to consider.