"Hi. I'm Meg. I didn't go to high school with you."

So:

I used to have this other online diary - an online diary filled with things about booyyyzzzz and whinnnniiinng and Mandy Moore.

And, for a moment, Dear Reader, we need to go back to that earlier iteration of online journaling. Because, let's be serious about this right now: I really love Mandy Moore. A lot a lot. This has got to be the 40 billionth (in real speak: 6th or so) time I've watched Chasing Liberty and I still ADORE it. A.D.O.R.E. Mandy Moore - you GO rebel! You GET out your aggression! You MAKE OUT with that hot British Dude! NO ONE CAN KEEP YOUR SPUNKY ATTITUDE DOWN!

You know what would make this Mandy Moore experience better? If it were followed by that one where she dates the dude who looks like Every Man I've Ever Loved, Ever. I think it's called Get Real or Really Real or Real, A Lot, For Always. Regardless - it's the one where her BFF gets preggers and then her BFF's BF dies suddenly and people learn about true love, with and without matramony.

It's hardcore. I think we'd be friends in real life - we'd girl talk and participate in capers and she'd tell me how she gets her hair to look so cute all the damn time. Seriously, Dear Reader, seriously.

So - winter break's been, for many days, even more hectic than regular workin' days, but I'm digging it.

Waking up in Jared's house, surrounded by people who are similarly trying to make sure they weren't too awkward last night, puts me in a weird mood. Dear Changing Relationships With People I Grew Up With: you confuse me.

True story.