Happy Saturday

I'm sitting here staring at the laptop screen. Sunshine is pouring in, I have the window open, my new scarf is wound around my neck, and I'm just staring at the screen. Today is the Saturday after Thanksgiving -- precisely two days before the last week of this semester begins. I have so much left to do, you would not believe it.

I made the mistake of choosing to play first, work later, of course, because now I cannot play and when I do, I feel guilty and the thought of the work lurks at the back of my mind. I need to sit down and make a list of things I need to do and their due dates, so I check them off as I finish them one by one.

But... more than anything, I want to be at my mom's house, playing Sims and watching HGTV.

More than anything. Le sigh -- just remember, one more school week. This is one last week of stressing the shit out of myself, then five weeks off before the second semester. That's it, words of encouragement -- words of hope, Robert.

Walking on Heavy Air

I dreamed I was hearing, so I was, well, HEARING stuff and talking, but I can't really remember what happened. I woke up still thinking I could hear and didn't recognize my alarm going off. There was a pulsing vibration shaking my bed, and I was freaking out.

"Turn it off! How the hell do I turn it off?!"

I succeeded in turning it off, slept 30 minutes more, and ended up running my oily self into class. A certain professor wasn't in today so that made my day a bit better, and I got coffee, my secret lover and public drug, and quit the Honors program. That might cost me a couple of thousands in my education, but I don't care. I don't enjoy being in the shit they call the Honors Program in such an elite jackassed way.

I'm cranky.

I also finished a literature review last night that was due about, ah, two weeks ago. What else? I finally stayed on campus this past weekend, didn't see Dave, and ended up drinking in my room anyway. Alcohol can have such an interesting influence on you and your friends' relationship. My roommate is also still new to this drinking thing, so I am trying to corrupt teach him how to deal with drinking.

This entry had no structure or point. Like life.

I have been feeling emo lately (Oh, how I detest that word) and now I feel like lying in bed, drinking absurd quantities of coffee and reading all the books I bought the last 5 years without ever reading them.

I also want to become a linguist so I can stay at home and write and take care of children and wipe up dog doo. Is that a silly dream to have? Are dreams silly at all, if they suddenly come to us? Are dreams our subconscious' way of telling us that we're not happy with the way our life is going?

We'll know in due time, kids.