Another Complication

So I made it, somehow, through finals week. And I think I might have even done a passable job on most of them. And now.... time to breathe, right?
If only. Work is such a... I don't know, a hassle. Work really isn't that bad. The people are nice and the job isn't very complicated. But it's frustrating, now, with Nate's surgery. I have to drive myself to work, and finding a parking space isn't the easiest thing to do the week before Christmas. Why can't people be sensible and get their shopping done a little earlier? I suppose that would take all the fun out of shopping.
I'm really worried. He's going to be out for a few hours for the surgery, and there are so many things that can happen. And all this just for his acl and meniscus. I wish I could be there, but the girl who thought she might be able to take my shift never got back to me... So I'm still here, instead of with him. I'm glad I didn't have to drive all the way there, but I really wanted to be there for him after his surgery. I know he'll probably be disoriented, but I thought it might help anywho. I'm just making myself really upset and anxious, so I should get to bed... I worry too much. I hope I'm worrying too much.

Yay Raccoon!

So I opened my little box of raisins and it had a happy phrase on it. "You can't imagine all the good things coming to you." And there was a little sun on it, no less. Yay.... that just perked me right up.
Well, no... but it was interesting that I've never noticed those before. I have to write two papers, one a fifteen page one. I have to read a novel by Suetonius (I suppose it's better than HOD, but not by much), study for a Psych quiz, finish all the Practica musica assignments that I've procrastinated on, study for my com midterm, work on two group assignments, work... oh, and sleep should be in there somewhere.
Ahhhh... I'm so lost. And so how do I solve this conundrum? I write! On my blog, no less. No, I don't write a paper. Or read my homework. I write completely useless and absolutely pointless drivel on my blog. YAY! Oh, and I eat raisins too.
Maybe I should quit. Quiting isn't for losers. It's for those who are actually able to comprehend the vastness and impossibility of accomplishing the work set out for them. So they quit. YAY quiters!
So... I'm going to go do my homework now...

The Me Now

See? I really did. This is my lower back. With a tattoo. Aren't I just the little innovator. But hey... it's me now.
Oh, the red thingy at the bottom? That's a belt. From aeropostale. Nice store. Preppy, butterflies and all. Nice.

Poison Control

So what happens when you reach a point in your life when you don't know where you are going? When you don't know what you're doing anymore? People don't really make you happy. Classes don't really make you happy. YOU don't really make you happy either. Not for lack of trying. When you just don't know why you're here, what to do, constantly second guessing yourself.
I was so much happier this summer. When I could work outside and it was warm and I felt like I was accomplishing something. Where is any of this getting me? I get a good grade on a quiz or a test, that's it. It's just a good grade. I don't want to be here. I know I'm in some kind of a funk. I probably know why too. I'm stressing and procrastinating and lacking motivation. I'm also not getting any exercise anymore. I think that really helped me lift my mood. I can't stand to "work out". It doesn't accomplish anything, really. Just wastes time. When I was working outside, I was doing just that. Working.
I don't know why I'm so tired either. I'm getting decent sleep. I'm actually getting the same or more as this previous summer, and definately more than last school year. I don't think I'm interested in any of the majors that I had thought about. I don't know what to do with my fiancee anymore. I can't even remember the last time we actually talk talked. I miss him. I miss him so much. But it's either class, schoolwork, tv, or sleep. I hate this... I should be more expressive in my word choice.
Maybe I'm sick... my throat has been sore and I've been tired... that could be anything though. I haven't talked to my best friend in three months. I miss her too. I'm just one big pathetic mess. Yay for pathetic messes.
Sorry about the funk I'm in. I just needed to write. It helps me to sort out my thoughts. I'm always analyzing things. I had an assignment that I did for tomorrow. I was sitting there and reading it through and thinking, Did I do what it says? Should I go back and change it to make it more difficult? It does say to use variety, which usually makes things more difficult. So mine should be more difficult. But difficult for whom? Me? Someone at a different level would find this difficult. I don't know. I know it's not really hard for me. Just a little thinking. But that would mean another half hour of concentration.
And so I decided not to do anything. I don't know. I think I need to go to bed or read more or something.
Here's to a better day tomorrow.

Spammer Blog Crap

I can't believe this! (I know, I'm ranting to myself... it's relaxing...) There is spam on my comments. What shit is this? No more anonymous comments... word verification, here I come! Do they honestly think that I'm going to click on those links? That they're not going to piss me off and only add to my aggrevation?
Do these people even think??!
Argh...

Ambivalence and tattoos

During the randomness that IS my life, I decided that I would join the growing ranks of those inhabitents of the tattoo kingdom. It took me two years to build up the Courage (with a captital c no less) that I would need (and to decide on what I actually wanted), but I did it. See? Well, you can't... see, it's really hard to take a decent picture of the small of your back. Seriously... try it.
Anywho, I'll have my friend or my guy take a picture of it when it heals. It's still red around the lettering (well, I did get it yesterday), and I've been told tales of peeling, the eeetching and the scraaatching, and that I should wait two weeks for the full effect. Great advice guys.
It felt like a really really wet and pissed off cat was trying to murder me. As slowly and painfully as possible. All those big tough guys that say it doesn't hurt and that it's not that bad? They're ALL lying. Through their big manly-men teeth. It's death by needle. Ok, not that bad. I didn't cry. That pillow they let me hug? He's gonna have some stories to tell. I'm actually quite proud of myself. Ladies, trust me. This is not fun. Worth it, perhaps. Fun... no.
I got the motto "Multum in Parvo" which is latin for Much in a Little. Literally Much in little. It's all in the translation. I took latin for three years and checked the phrasing twenty-million times- who wants to put some messed up crap on their body? Anywho, it fits me- I am quite tiny (both height and width wise) and hey, I have to believe that there is something in me. I think it's mostly a self-esteem reminder... not that I'm full of it or anything... I'm becoming incoherent. It's late, and I was up at a party last night... and tonight. God... college.... homework.... death by stress.... :-) and Good Night!

Cheese and Veggies

As of late, I've been addicted. I went out to our friendly neighborhood Applebee's last nite, and instead of a regular "menu item", I ordered myself a side of veggies. They had wayyy too much hot pepper and I had them bring me a new plate, but that's irrelevent. Unless you care that I don't do spicy foods. If I had wanted it compleltely engulfed by pepper I could have accomplished that quite nicely with the pepper they had so kindly placed on our table.
And two days ago, I went grocery shopping. I somehow managed to spend forty dollars on cheese, frozen vegetables, and milk. I think that I'm missing the comforts of home. Every night at supper there were veggies. And we drank milk like I've discovered that most families devour (unfortunately) water. Milk is so much more healthy for you. And I suppose my parents were most fortunate in that all of their children enjoyed veggies. Except for lima beans. Ick.

je ne sais pas ce qui

So here I am, sitting in my pj's (very comfy ones, I might add) and a bathrobe. It's 7:54 in the morning, and I've already started on my first diet (vanilla) pepsi. I'm currently contemplating the merits of getting a tattoo. It'd look cool. I hope. I think that's the only one so far. The cons I have are pain, scabs, money, hating it, having to get it lasered off, a very upset boyfriend, and an unsureness of what exactly is worth all of this to be put on my body. So I think I'm going to leave this pondering for another sort of day.

Brain gender?

Your Brain is 60.00% Female, 40.00% Male

Your brain is a healthy mix of male and female You are both sensitive and savvy Rational and reasonable, you tend to keep level headed But you also tend to wear your heart on your sleeve

What Gender Is Your Brain?

Brideshead Revisited

You are Lady Julia Mottram, nee Flyte. You are
beautiful and chic and beloved, but you aren't
happy.

What Brideshead Revisited character are you?

Blasé

I have... approximately fifteen minutes to write before I continue on to two more hours of my high school career. Two hours less... I can live with that.
School has become very BLASÉ (this is one of those instances where I felt the need to capitalize. Contrary to internet etiquette, I am NOT shouting. Just emphasizing without bolding or italicizing. The English language needs to find a new way to instigate methods of emphasis in writing. The ones we have now are becoming repetitive and boring). I am increasingly beginning to find and appreciate the wonderful contributions of the French to the English language. I am also beginning to deplore the lack of use of such wonderful words. How could people overlook these magnificent donations?
I'm really not going anywhere with this, so I'm going to just post it and get it over with. I'm not in my natural milieu right now, so I'm having difficulty concentrating on anything.
Toodles!

Procrastination of a Dismal Sort

Soooo here I have this wonderful blog, and I've never really used it. I have, however, found some other very interesting blogs while not writing in my own. I used to be rather ingenious and spontaneous... I even had my own online journal.
The advent of "90-day-periods" of time in which activity must take place promptly put an end to that facade... (by the way, ellipses are my thing...) I had an extremely diverse and interesting journal... I even had a following! But that's all lost now.
So, when I remember (which I usually don't), and when I feel like it (which I also usually don't), I might even grace this pathetic attempt at sharing my well-thought-out and enlightening viewpoints with the world. Who knows? Someone might actually read what I have to say.
At this particular moment in time, I have decided to write said blog to avoid writing a paper. Said paper was actually due today, but such a fact is inconsequential.
Do you ever write a word and feel like it should be all capitals, but not capitalize it because it's now considered overexcessive and impolite? Or is that by chance just me?
Anywho... ah yes, said paper. Said paper is on poetry. Now I myself am a poetry "fan." I even enjoy it from time to time. But why would analyzing it bring me any closer to self-understanding and the fufillment of a life of studying to achieve whatever "goal" I have in my life?
Yeah, I don't care either. By the one, one more sidenote... I write oddly. I use big words and psychotic phrasing. Deal with it. However, this unfortunate tendancy of mine has resulted in accusations of plagiarism. Teachers (yes, I still have to deal with the responsibility of reassuring someone else that they are not wasting their life by teaching me what they know on any particular subject) are extremely shortsighted in most matters. Because they do not bother to actually involve me (during class- you know, class participation?) in any of this "learning," they feel I am not of the smaller percentage of the population that is capable of listening, learning, or writing things that are remotely comprehendible.
My most recent teacher told me that I wrote papers the way text books were written sixty years ago. And I received the feeling that he meant this in a negative manner.
I wonder if this is true? I don't read text books from sixty years ago, and to my recollection, I never have. Older text books, yes. More recent ones, yes. But sixty years? .... Nope.
As you may (or more likely, may not have) gathered from all this incoherent blather, I am still subjected to the daily rituals of high school hell. But ah ha! I shall soon be free!

Who can live without them?

God, it's unbelievable what can happen to a person in seven months. And just think, only three more till freedom. Well, not in the aspect of self-sufficiency, but in my case I think self-sufficiency far outweighs the lack of freedom I am currently forced to endure.
Let's just say life isn't easy. Understatement of a lifetime....