walkingshadow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
walkingshadow) wrote2005-03-31 07:07 pm
walkingshadow) wrote2005-03-31 07:07 pm
I'm hoping that the devil smokes two packs a day
People. I'm trying to hit rock bottom here. Kindly stop throwing down pillows and snagging bungee cords on my belt loops. The blood rushes to my head and that's uncomfortable. This is not a secret wish for Tyler Durden to swing by and shake lye onto the back of my wet hand.
I stayed up all night avoiding making up 250 words on a book I'd never read. I forced it out by 8:30 a.m., attached it to the thin excuse he'd been so generous with his benefits of the doubt for soliciting, and emailed it off, promising to also bring in a hard copy. Then I slept for three hours. In class today we discussed selected readings I never even bought the book for. He hadn't emailed me back, but he handed back the graded exams, and when everyone was leaving I went up to make sure he'd gotten my email okay, and he just grinned a little and made gimme hands for the copy I was holding out. And another lesson goes unlearned. I don't even want to know what the grade is going to be.
My parents have been suspiciously silent on the subject of my post-graduation plans, or lack thereof. I haven't heard another word about grad school since they were up here in January, when I finally broke down and admitted to my mother that I didn't know what I wanted to do or where I wanted to do it. They're assuming, I'm sure, that I'm going to come home; and probably that I'll get some sort of job to justify my continued existence. I could go back to the doctor's office omg. What would be super-cool is moving to Boston and bunking down with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silentfire while she goes to school and I get some kind of job to justify my continued existence. She's been campaigning very hard for me to do graduate work at MIT or Harvard. I planted that idea; I don't know now if they even have what I want, let alone whether they'd let me in to find it. Let's do it all over with a graphic arts degree this time. My life would be a choose-your-own-adventure book if I could just flip back the pages. As it is, Sartre wins.
I've been watching a HUGE storm roll in from the north for the past twenty minutes or so. The horizon blackened, and then as the sun set the clouds got closer and heavier. It's gone from dead calm to blustery, wind whistling through the trees and whapping my curtains around. Severe thunderstorms expected. I leave for the gym in ten minutes.
I stayed up all night avoiding making up 250 words on a book I'd never read. I forced it out by 8:30 a.m., attached it to the thin excuse he'd been so generous with his benefits of the doubt for soliciting, and emailed it off, promising to also bring in a hard copy. Then I slept for three hours. In class today we discussed selected readings I never even bought the book for. He hadn't emailed me back, but he handed back the graded exams, and when everyone was leaving I went up to make sure he'd gotten my email okay, and he just grinned a little and made gimme hands for the copy I was holding out. And another lesson goes unlearned. I don't even want to know what the grade is going to be.
My parents have been suspiciously silent on the subject of my post-graduation plans, or lack thereof. I haven't heard another word about grad school since they were up here in January, when I finally broke down and admitted to my mother that I didn't know what I wanted to do or where I wanted to do it. They're assuming, I'm sure, that I'm going to come home; and probably that I'll get some sort of job to justify my continued existence. I could go back to the doctor's office omg. What would be super-cool is moving to Boston and bunking down with
silentfire while she goes to school and I get some kind of job to justify my continued existence. She's been campaigning very hard for me to do graduate work at MIT or Harvard. I planted that idea; I don't know now if they even have what I want, let alone whether they'd let me in to find it. Let's do it all over with a graphic arts degree this time. My life would be a choose-your-own-adventure book if I could just flip back the pages. As it is, Sartre wins.I've been watching a HUGE storm roll in from the north for the past twenty minutes or so. The horizon blackened, and then as the sun set the clouds got closer and heavier. It's gone from dead calm to blustery, wind whistling through the trees and whapping my curtains around. Severe thunderstorms expected. I leave for the gym in ten minutes.
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it's been a while; i hope you're well.
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*g* I always know where your votes go. Remember that fortune favors the
boldearly-and-often voter!