I really don't know what to say. I feel a little whack, out of balance, uncentered, etc. I'm not sure how to get back there. My moods have been contemplative and introspective. Hence the long walks, the movies and books with substance. I've been doing a lot of soul searching and I've concluded nothing.

I went for a long walk around the streets of DC today. 2pm I exited at the Chinatown Metro and found myself in the middle of the Chinese New Year parade. There were kids throwing snaps everywhere, loud drum beats, marching bands, dancing dragons and fire crackers. The point of the noise, the dragons and the drums is to scare away the evil spirits, to enter the new year screaming, "here I am." Standing there, as a stranger in the crowd, I let the noise and life of the parade wash over me.

I walked the streets for a long time, finding myself closely examining Félix-Hilaire Buhot's prints at the National Gallery of Art. I admire his work. He is famous for his impressionist prints. He has a way of depicting mood in city scenes. One of his prints, "Spirits from the cities of the dead," left me in awe. At the bottom right of his print, he has a flying owl, which he also adopts as part of his signature. I felt like that owl.

I worked on my law school essay at the cafe, ate a small meal at the whole foods on P street and worked on my application to Suffolk at home while watching the Superbowl.

Saturday night I went out and partied like a rock star. I'm not sure what I did, but I woke up with mud on my jeans, a voice mail about a chick fight, a sore elbow and right fist, and a phone call from A. who said I called her and was belligerent on the phone. My bad,

Man, this self-loathing is pathetic.