No te preocupes por mí, preocupate por tí.

I love Spanish. I wish I could speak more of it than the kitchen Spanish I already know. The guys like to have fun with me, taking the things I say in English, and translating them, maybe less accurately than it should be, into Spanish. Tonight, we translated one of my very favorite sayings:

Don't worry about me, worry about your damn self.

Maybe the damn was left out in the Spanish version, but it's still fun for me to say.

Tonight was one of the better nights I've had in a while. Friday and Saturday were each a fiasco in their own right. Saturday was a thousand times worse than Friday. Tonight was nearly a walk in the park. Now, I'm home with a horrid sinus infection, watching the last half of tonight's Big Love, and now Flight of the Conchords, looking forward to rereading Secret Warriors, Nick Fury: Agent of Nothing. I'm feeling rested for the first time in a few days. Willy is laying with me, too. I'm pretty content.

I go back to school tomorrow. It feels like I've been away for weeks. I have nine class meetings during the week (six classes, three of them meet twice a week), but last week, I only had three of my nine class meetings. I feel out of the loop. I'm ready to get back to business.

This week, I have to begin learning the guitar (thanks, Ryan), get my tenor repaired and practice that, do a moderate composition assignment, along with reading for three classes, and a moderate writing assignment. Concern is appreciated, but don't worry about me, preocupate por tí.

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