Is It Not February Anymore?
Gah! There has been so much madness and excitement and stress about ICFA and travel plans and the Dells that I feel like they are happening TOMORROW instead of five weeks from now. It at least feels like the middle of February. But it's just the 8th. And I still have RAG week and the Strauss Ball before I go anywhere! So. My brain is working double time to get my internal calendar straightened out.
I have been coerced into attempting to bring a banoffee pie with me in my carry on. Though this seems like a terrible plan, EVEN TO ME, I am DEFINITELY trying it, because if it worked, everything would be marvellous. Because banoffee pie is marvellous.
Let's see... what's going on?
I started writing a new story today. And this one I have a real plot for, and I know how it ends, and it will be brilliant. I am very excited about it, as it has grown up Carolion, and Aiden playing guitar for the faeries, and probably Oberon in a pomegranate limousine. And maybe Iris, who used to be dead but will be alive now because it suits the purpose of my story better.
I went to the gym this weekend twice, both times for 2 hours. I am wrecked. Today, I have not left my apartment. Or, really, this armchair. I have not changed out of my pajamas. I simply added pants.
I just made juevos rancheros, and they were PHENOMENAL.
My mother is upset with me, I think, because I lost track of which parent wanted to come visit when, and blah blah blah. I wish they could just work it out between themselves instead of trying to work it out with me as an intermediary. I've been reduced to trying to manipulate them into coming at different times. And they don't even WANT to be here at the same time. I don't even know WHEN they want to come. I don't even know. I'm pretty sure whoever actually MAKES RESERVATIONS first will have most of my sympathy. Right now, they're both like, "I WANT!" Well, get on it, people! Make some decisions. Grarrrgh. Divorced parents. Grrrr. Arrrgh.
I have big, painful, red blisters all over my hands. Immune response to a prolonged cold. My body HATES me.
Time to go melt some butter over some stale bread I rescued from my suitemate's trash-aimed hand. It's SUCH good bread. And it had ONE mold spot on it. Crazy lady.
Anyway. Ireland. I am here. I like it. I am sure I will like Florida better, because there will be sun there. And people I am longing to see! And maybe some squashed banoffee pie.
No longer terribly homesick. Well adjusted, I believe. Still really confused as to exactly how long I will be here. I like that this Orlando trip breaks my study abroad term neatly in half. Two and a half months here, trip to Florida (see Dad, and Tony), and two and a half months back in Ireland (mostly without any school, and with fun trips to Italy and London TO SEE AMANDA PALMER! and my insane parents coming to visit me).
So really, it is just down to shitty, shitty February, during which nothing interesting is happening. except RAG week, which is mostly things you have to pay for, and people getting spectacularly drunk.
Ok. Off to write more.
I have been coerced into attempting to bring a banoffee pie with me in my carry on. Though this seems like a terrible plan, EVEN TO ME, I am DEFINITELY trying it, because if it worked, everything would be marvellous. Because banoffee pie is marvellous.
Let's see... what's going on?
I started writing a new story today. And this one I have a real plot for, and I know how it ends, and it will be brilliant. I am very excited about it, as it has grown up Carolion, and Aiden playing guitar for the faeries, and probably Oberon in a pomegranate limousine. And maybe Iris, who used to be dead but will be alive now because it suits the purpose of my story better.
I went to the gym this weekend twice, both times for 2 hours. I am wrecked. Today, I have not left my apartment. Or, really, this armchair. I have not changed out of my pajamas. I simply added pants.
I just made juevos rancheros, and they were PHENOMENAL.
My mother is upset with me, I think, because I lost track of which parent wanted to come visit when, and blah blah blah. I wish they could just work it out between themselves instead of trying to work it out with me as an intermediary. I've been reduced to trying to manipulate them into coming at different times. And they don't even WANT to be here at the same time. I don't even know WHEN they want to come. I don't even know. I'm pretty sure whoever actually MAKES RESERVATIONS first will have most of my sympathy. Right now, they're both like, "I WANT!" Well, get on it, people! Make some decisions. Grarrrgh. Divorced parents. Grrrr. Arrrgh.
I have big, painful, red blisters all over my hands. Immune response to a prolonged cold. My body HATES me.
Time to go melt some butter over some stale bread I rescued from my suitemate's trash-aimed hand. It's SUCH good bread. And it had ONE mold spot on it. Crazy lady.
Anyway. Ireland. I am here. I like it. I am sure I will like Florida better, because there will be sun there. And people I am longing to see! And maybe some squashed banoffee pie.
No longer terribly homesick. Well adjusted, I believe. Still really confused as to exactly how long I will be here. I like that this Orlando trip breaks my study abroad term neatly in half. Two and a half months here, trip to Florida (see Dad, and Tony), and two and a half months back in Ireland (mostly without any school, and with fun trips to Italy and London TO SEE AMANDA PALMER! and my insane parents coming to visit me).
So really, it is just down to shitty, shitty February, during which nothing interesting is happening. except RAG week, which is mostly things you have to pay for, and people getting spectacularly drunk.
Ok. Off to write more.