(no subject)
I'm listening to Christmas music. It's October. I'm pathetic.
Yes, I realize I was listening to this same CD all last August or so, so I'm improving. It's still messed up.
Olivia, have you heard anything by Trans-Siberian Orchestra? For some reason I think you might like it.
I'm writing an essay. I have about 500 words left. This shouldn't be all that hard, except that I've just about run out of things to say. The first 800 words went very fast - I just brain dumped and got it all written within half an hour or so (though it still needs serious editing). The next 200 took a lot longer. This essay was actually due last Saturday, but I was terribly sick all that week and wasn't able to work on it. Then it was due Thursday, but I was a lazy ass and didn't get it done. So I just hope she accepts it tomorrow.
During high school, essays were no problem for me. I prefered them to everyday assignments. In college, it flip-flopped. I had no problem doing the silly everyday busywork, but every essay turns into a long, drawn out exercise in drama and angst. I don't remember how I wrote essays in high school. I just did. An 8 page essay would just pop out of my pen in a few hours. Now I can either brain dump, in which case everything comes out sounding horrible and wrong and in need of severe editing, or I can write something that sounds halfway decent, but it's like pulling teeth to get a sentence out of my brain.
I think I'm suffering from some genetic disease that causes me to gradually losing IQ points. By the time I reach 30 I'll be a complete imbecile in need of institutional care.
It disturbs me that I'll need to take a classload at least as bad as this semester in the spring if I want to graduate. I'll need to take three classes that require actual work. Perhaps I'll get lucky and either koyote will get a good job so I won't have to worry about working, or we'll decide not to move yet so I won't have to worry about getting everything done in one semester.
I'm sick of school. I'm sick of work. I want some time to sleep as much as I want and to do what I want. Preferably time when I'm not puking my guts out and suffering from random attacks of severe abdominal pain, as that doesn't really count as restful, and makes it rather hard to actually do anything except stare up at the ceiling and try to see shapes in the asbestos.
I feel hesitant to whine here, as I'm afraid of driving people away. But it's my journal, so I can write what I want. So there.
(The really depressing part is that this entry, including the mood and music, is exactly 500 words. Go figure)
Yes, I realize I was listening to this same CD all last August or so, so I'm improving. It's still messed up.
Olivia, have you heard anything by Trans-Siberian Orchestra? For some reason I think you might like it.
I'm writing an essay. I have about 500 words left. This shouldn't be all that hard, except that I've just about run out of things to say. The first 800 words went very fast - I just brain dumped and got it all written within half an hour or so (though it still needs serious editing). The next 200 took a lot longer. This essay was actually due last Saturday, but I was terribly sick all that week and wasn't able to work on it. Then it was due Thursday, but I was a lazy ass and didn't get it done. So I just hope she accepts it tomorrow.
During high school, essays were no problem for me. I prefered them to everyday assignments. In college, it flip-flopped. I had no problem doing the silly everyday busywork, but every essay turns into a long, drawn out exercise in drama and angst. I don't remember how I wrote essays in high school. I just did. An 8 page essay would just pop out of my pen in a few hours. Now I can either brain dump, in which case everything comes out sounding horrible and wrong and in need of severe editing, or I can write something that sounds halfway decent, but it's like pulling teeth to get a sentence out of my brain.
I think I'm suffering from some genetic disease that causes me to gradually losing IQ points. By the time I reach 30 I'll be a complete imbecile in need of institutional care.
It disturbs me that I'll need to take a classload at least as bad as this semester in the spring if I want to graduate. I'll need to take three classes that require actual work. Perhaps I'll get lucky and either koyote will get a good job so I won't have to worry about working, or we'll decide not to move yet so I won't have to worry about getting everything done in one semester.
I'm sick of school. I'm sick of work. I want some time to sleep as much as I want and to do what I want. Preferably time when I'm not puking my guts out and suffering from random attacks of severe abdominal pain, as that doesn't really count as restful, and makes it rather hard to actually do anything except stare up at the ceiling and try to see shapes in the asbestos.
I feel hesitant to whine here, as I'm afraid of driving people away. But it's my journal, so I can write what I want. So there.
(The really depressing part is that this entry, including the mood and music, is exactly 500 words. Go figure)