I broke it off with the bartender.

I went to visit him at work last night after barhopping on the Lower East Side. Nothing bad happened while I was there, I just wasn't feeling it. And so, when he kissed me on the cheek and said "see you soon" as I was leaving, I shook my head.

"You mean, I WON'T be seeing you soon?" he asked, looking a little confused.

I wanted to tell him "Do you really need an explanation?" but I didn't feel like being a bitch.

"It's a long story," I replied, smiling apologetically.

His face dropped. "Well, at least call or text message me soon," he said. And I smiled and I went out the door.

And that's that. It's for the best, I think. Because I deserve more than $20 cab fares and sex in the girls' bathroom after closing. There are a million other bars in New York, I can always find a different one to haunt.

Dear Men in Your Twenties,

Please stop being such assholes.
One among you has ruined what would otherwise be a wonderful day for me.
Please gain some tact and decency as soon as possible.
Or, alternately, go fuck yourselves.

Kisses,
Roopa

I've had a sore throat for the past couple of days. It's just my throat that's been irritating me, nothing else. No other symptoms.

My mom says it's from yelling and talking loudly.
My roommate says it's from drinking too much.
I say it's a combination of the above two things.
Wonderful.

Either way, I'm a lush and have been drunk 5 of 7 nights this week.
Thank God I can say it's because this is my last semester of college, or this behavior would be inexcusable.
When I enter the real world next year I really can't afford to be doing this all the time.

But Hot Jazz was SO MUCH FUN last night. It was seriously one of the best evenings of the semester -- and I definitely had a LOT more champagne than I did last time I went.
And I did end up writing 30 pages of my screenplay today (hopefully 40 before I go to bed tonight), despite the hangover, so I'd say today has been enormously productive.

The sad thing, though, is that I went on the writing spree today because I want to have my 60 pages for Tuesday done before 11 tomorrow night.
So I can go out afterwards.

It's shocking how much my priorities have changed since I came to Columbia 4 years ago. I wonder what my 18-year-old self would say if she saw me now.

Maybe I'm just pessimistic, but whenever things are going well in my life I always prepare myself extra for them to crash and burn at any moment.
And right now, things are going pretty damn smoothly, which leaves me to wonder what exactly is going to fall apart.
There's an "OH FUCK" feeling in my stomach, and my heart, that I simply cannot seem to get rid of.