So I pretty much feel like I inhaled a small kitten through my nostrils. I spend most of my time in Clemson, so when I come home my body doesn't know what to do with all the cat hair. Naturally, the most logical response is to flood my sinuses. Awesome. Anyway, I'm just sitting here in my dad and Carol's living room trying to do homework (or trying not to do it). It's so strange when I come home on the weekends. It's like Columbia and Clemson are two separate worlds and I live two separate lives in each of them. Trying to adapt to this new world is always a challenge for me. It's almost like wearing a disguise. I don't know how to act, and I'm worried that one small mistake can reveal my true identity. I suppose that's why I always tend to clam up when I'm at home. I have changed so tremendously at Clemson that I'm worried my own parents and friends won't recognize (or even accept) the new Morgan. It's a strange feeling for your family not to understand you. That's the thing about being reborn again in Christ. Everything changes. I literally feel like the old Morgan is dead and gone, replaced by a brand-new one. I like this one...it's a lot more comfortable. I'm just worried no one else will.