(no subject)
So, today was about as eventful as every other day (read: not eventful at all) but I think I kind of like it that way, because eventfullness has all sorts of not so pleasant strings attached, like having to do things.
My hands are blistered. It's from the rowing machine. I guess I'll either get used to it, and develop horrendous looking calluses on my hands which cause me to lose all feeling, so then someday I'll be standing at home, near the stove, and I'll place my hand on the still-warm burner, but I won't know the pain it's causing me, because my hand will be all callused and such, so then when I tear my hand off of the burner, the skin peels off onto the glowing metal. Either that or I'll get a pair of gloves, and then it won't hurt to work out.
My poem was work-shopped today. No one understood it, which is a problem. But they said it was pretty.
I guess I have to fix it.
I don't really get to talk to Josh too much now that he's working second shift, but I'll get to see him this weekend and that will be good.
I think I'm going to start trying to make my own clothes, you know, out of clothes that people already made and random scraps of material. Nothing too ambitious, but at least I can say that I'm crafty and creative, or something.
On that note, I'm going to go try to read The Taming of the Shrew, which I am supposed to have read by tomorrow, but I still have the two hours that I have to work at the desk in the morning before class, so I guess I should save something so that the sheer boredom of sitting and seeing no one for two hours doesn't make me cry.
My hands are blistered. It's from the rowing machine. I guess I'll either get used to it, and develop horrendous looking calluses on my hands which cause me to lose all feeling, so then someday I'll be standing at home, near the stove, and I'll place my hand on the still-warm burner, but I won't know the pain it's causing me, because my hand will be all callused and such, so then when I tear my hand off of the burner, the skin peels off onto the glowing metal. Either that or I'll get a pair of gloves, and then it won't hurt to work out.
My poem was work-shopped today. No one understood it, which is a problem. But they said it was pretty.
I guess I have to fix it.
I don't really get to talk to Josh too much now that he's working second shift, but I'll get to see him this weekend and that will be good.
I think I'm going to start trying to make my own clothes, you know, out of clothes that people already made and random scraps of material. Nothing too ambitious, but at least I can say that I'm crafty and creative, or something.
On that note, I'm going to go try to read The Taming of the Shrew, which I am supposed to have read by tomorrow, but I still have the two hours that I have to work at the desk in the morning before class, so I guess I should save something so that the sheer boredom of sitting and seeing no one for two hours doesn't make me cry.