This Is All Used Up

Current Song: My Iron Lung by Radiohead.

Current Aura: Ominous foreboding. I just looked out the window and I swear it wasn't this dark five minutes ago.

Current Pain: Today it's foot pain and back pain. Not related to each other. Hooray for finals, when my whole system reliably gives out every year!

Current Regret: Yesterday's retail therapy where I dropped $100 on stuff that didn't even have the decency to be fun or to make me forget my troubles.

Current Bright Spot of Sunshine: It's the last week of this horrible semester!

Current Childish Joy: Puppies!

Current Desire: Donuts with sprinkles!

Current Balance: To the left.

Sonuvva

Last paper for research methods? Done and done.

Clearly in need of chocolate? Si.

Covered in printer ink to no avail as the printer is both not working and never going to work again? Check.

Angry?

Oh, yes.

no solutions

I think this is more than I can do.

Or maybe I just need some excitement.

I guess we won't know until

Two Hits: Me Hitting You, You Hitting The Floor

First of all, I apparently forgot to mention that the Ted Leo and the Pharmacists show was probably the best live show I've been to this year.

Second of all, I saw Hot Fuzz tonight and it's basically awesome. Seriously, go to it. Take it. Like a lover.

Third of all, I can't keep doing this. I can't. I can't pretend it doesn't matter to me and I don't know what to do with that because every way we look at this I'm going to lose. Because we can't have everything, so one of us gets nothing. Thanks.

The Word "Crevice" Makes Me Uncomfortable

I've got to start getting home before the early morning. I'm not getting enough sleep.

Battle of the Bands was Battle of the Bullshit, and Bullshit won.

I'm watching stupid trash TV that involves bloopers and hilarious home videos, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm loving it.

I can't wait to be done with this week. You?

Please Is Not A Word I Have Ever Said Quietly

There's a lounge cover of Oasis' "Wonderwall" on the Current right now and it makes me want to stab out my eardrums. I hated this song when it wasn't a slow jam.

I'm going to Spring Jam's Battle of the Bands tonight because Robby is playing bass for Pioneer Hall and I basically love that idea. Apparently there's food, also. I'm going by myself which is lame because everyone I know is also lame, but not lame like Spring Jam. It's a spectrum, like autism.

I was talking to someone recently and I said that I had gotten really excited about someone's Strong Sad t-shirt, and the person I was talking to tried to correct me: "Don't you mean Strong Bad?" Which indicated to me that this person was basing this particular pop-culture reference on things they'd heard other people say, and not any interaction they'd had with the particular phenomenon. Here's some solid advice, kids: Don't try to pass off secondhand pop-culture knowledge as original. It's too easy to slip up and look like an ass. If you don't get it, say you don't get it. Nobody respects a liar.

I've been making a lot of mistakes regarding sleep lately, in that I've been up late talking to people I love instead of sleeping for the past couple nights. And I have to get up pretty early on weekdays. So if I seem really distracted or mercurial lately, it's because sleep deprivation has robbed me of my judgement.

All Fires Have To Burn Alive To Live

I nearly tore my eyes out at work this morning trying to figure out how to edit HTML in WebCT. I somehow have made it this far with laughably rudimentary HTML skills that people born four or five years later seem to have ingrained into the wiring of their brains. Stupid fast-developing technological empire. I feel so obselete.

I forgot how to write the number 6 the other day. I couldn't decide if the loop went to the left or the right. I had to write it down several times and none of them looked correct. I can't be the only one things like this happen to, right?

I'm obsessively listening to Sunset Rubdown today. I was singing along until my boss came in and now I'm too shy. Although I am sort of muttering along under my breath.

We should all be proud of me, I finished my homework assignments for the week AND I finished my scholarship application, which is due Friday. I just need to walk it over to its destination and (HOPEFULLY) I can get some funding next year. I don't trust the CEHD to give me any money, since they're pretty dedicated to supporting the future teachers of the world and telling everyone else to bugger off. But there is no CHE to throw scholarships at me anymore, so I'll take my chances. On a related note, Bobby Bruininks can blow me.

Bomb. Repeat. Bomb. Repeat. Bomb.

I angrily hate this semester, and this week of this semester in particular. I finished my trafficking paper, which dragged itself out to 13 pages (14 with the bibliography) and then I decided to look up the requirements for the "personal reaction paper" I had to write for my alcohol and drug therapy class. Given that every single other reaction paper I've had to write over this entire semester has maxed out at about two pages, I wasn't worried. Unfortunately, this is the description of the assignment:

"Type a 4-6 page personal reaction/reflection paper on 1 of the 2 texts used in this course. This paper should be an articulation of what you personally, professionally, and academically derived, enjoyed, and found helpful or useful from the text and the course. The paper is worth 50 points."

50 points. Yeeouch.

Instead of writing the paper right away, first I bitched about it a lot, and then I did the math on the entire course to figure out what my grade would be if I just didn't write it. It was kind of a ballpark figure, since I haven't any idea how many classes I've missed (I guessed a minimum of 5, but I didn't even make it in today, so it could be much, much higher.) Either way, if I didn't write this paper at all I'd come out with about a B. Unfortunately for me, if I got half credit on the paper I could bump it up to about an A-, which is motivation enough for me to write the paper but not to try very hard. So I wrote a paper that's just over 2 pages and called it good. Take home point: I hate this semester.

I'm going to Ted Leo and the Pharmacists tomorrow! Maybe that will make up for today.

Our Time Is Running Out

I have a total mental block about doing my homework this week. I came home all set to write that paper about modern day slavery, but instead I spent several hours baking delicious homemade cookies with Easter M&M's in them. You should have been here. Then I chatted on the phone for far too long, so when all is said and done I only got about two pages written before I ran out of steam. I'm skipping my night class tomorrow because I'm going to see Ted Leo and the Pharmacists on Wednesday, and all of these papers are due on Thursday, so I have to have one more night to do some writing. At least last night I finished my journal assignment for my Alcohol and Drug therapy class, so this hasn't been a total bust. Still and all, I feel an all-nighter coming down the pike.

Crap, I just realized I have a current events paper to write before tomorrow. I hate this week.

I ate too many cookies and I'm a little nauseated.

I've Seen The Needle And The Damage Done

Title change time!

I have been reading and making in-depth notes about the situation of sex trafficking in the US and Poland for the last five and a half hours. Except for the three minutes I took to reheat the rest of my Chicken in Garlic Sauce from last night. I still have to write the paper but I feel like I have a good foundation and I can afford to rest on my laurels for a little while.

I organized an outing to see Dance Band tonight and then I flaked out and didn't go, so I hope A) everybody was going to bail on me secretly anyway; or B) everyone is mingling and making friends without me. I'm leaning towards A, but I'm paranoid.

I spent the majority of this afternoon avoiding all the homework I have by reading the rest of Huck Finn. It's pretty good but it drags a bit toward the end. Thus concludes my arrogance in reviewing a book that you were probably compelled to read as a child.

So, I knew these crazy kids in London. The female kid lives in Pittsburgh and is nice enough, but, God help her, just not that bright. The male kid lives in Austin, TX, and is one of the sleaziest balls of sleaze ever to ooze over the Earth. They up and fell in love, or else he got bored and she got taken, but I came to find out that she is moving to Austin to be with him in a month or so, and my heart broke for all the other nice but not-that-bright girls out there who just can't see what they've gotten themselves into. Let's all take a step back from our significant others and think, "Has this person ever bragged about dealing cocaine?," shall we?

A Monk, A Nun, A Merchant, A King, And A Lot Of Cave-Dwelling Dwarves

I went out to Lila's to interview her and I ended up eating delicious Chinese food and then running around on the roof with her and Carissa and Kari and The Chop. It was a beautiful night and it reminded me why it's a beautiful life. Then Carissa and I belted out Keane as we cruised down the freeway and then raced my bus to the stop so I could get on it. I don't spend a lot of time with people my age, for obvious reasons, and sometimes it's really relaxing and fun to be reminded that there are people in the world who aren't crying over an essay or drinking about finals at any given time.

On an unrelated note, we had a meeting and we decided that you're wasting your time and you can do better.

Tell Him I'm Coming and Hell's Coming With Me

I'm pretty sure the Modest Mouse show was great. I'm damn sure I was pretty drunk for it. Then I went to Leslie's and ate cookies and got a ride home. It was a good night.

I woke up with a hangover this morning, so I've spent the day eating high-fat, high-starch foods, talking to Susan, and reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I wonder why you don't see more boys named Huckleberry? They're probably all in Missouri.

I have to drag myself up and into the shower and some clean clothes. I have an obscene amount of homework to do and part of it requires me to go somewhere and interview someone today, which just seems like an ordeal.

Get Out Of My Dreams And Also Out Of My Car

I have a lot of homework to do and no time in which to do it. I've decided to give up on school and try to drink my way into a successful career. I'd make a Bush joke but those are pretty played out. Like Chuck Norris jokes. There's a fad that deserved to die a horrible death.

I woke up at 7:30 this morning to a series of loud sounds outside and my first thought was that bombs were going off. I don't know what it was but on reflection it sounded like the same noises I used to hear when I lived next to the dumpster for my apartment complex and the truck that emptied it dropped it all the time. For some reason the way this neighborhood is constructed, every sound that happens at normal volume on the street can be heard clearly in my bedroom. It gets tiresome. It will be the reason I burn the Burrito Loco to the ground.

(If you glance through this thing I've been threatening to burn a lot of things to the ground lately. I think the fire is a metaphor for my passion, or something. Dear God, don't let anyone burn anything down, or I'll probably get shipped for it.)

My favorite bad business model of the moment is Let's Grab A Drink, which tries to match potential dates based solely on their drink preference. Although "Coffee" and "Tea" are options, the site basically functions to introduce people with obvious and uncontrolled drinking problems into each other's company. Here comes unwanted pregnancy!

You're Torturing Me

All of this craziness clearly needs to stop, alright? Let's all smarten up, here, people.

I was just outside of the margins of the evacuation which was annoying because, since nothing happened, I would rather have had a paid day off of work. I had to take the bus out to St. Paul and back for class, and the firefighters at the fire station on Oak Street had lined up lawn chairs outside the station, facing Northrup, like there was going to be a parade. Or a series of horrific explosions. Point is, whoever made that idle bomb threat is probably going to spend the rest of their short but eventful life begging for mercy in a terrorist prison. My money's on Gitmo, but it could be one of those "secret" prisons behind what remains of the Iron Curtain. Good luck, anonymous threat-maker. You just made the worst mistake of your life.

I'm so filled with directionless rage today. I cut out of my Research Methods class in the middle because we were supposed to do a group exercise and I couldn't see that ending in anything but bloodshed. Every once in a while you just have to take a day out to angrily hate everything, I think. Of course, the people who love you need to be understanding of that. The people that love me are avoiding me, which is only serving to piss me off further. Can't you people see, I need hugs. Hugs.

Things Will Be Great When You're Downtown

The Wild finally won a game in the playoffs! Now we just have to win three more. In a row. Just to stay in the running.

By far my favorite part was when Anaheim Mighty Ducks jerkass Brad May punched my favorite player (Derek Boogaard) in the face. See, Boogaard is very, very large, and also crazy. He has a reputation that was helped when he hit a guy so hard it shattered his eye socket. So May gets in a solid, clean hook right to Boogaard's jaw, and Boogaard just stands there and looks at him. Calmly. Which is what brought on my favorite part of the whole game, which was the honestly terrified look that crossed Brad May's face immediately afterward. My second favorite part was about a minute later when Boogaard skated up on May out of nowhere and May about peed himself. May sucker-punched one of our guys later on and got thrown out, probably for his own safety. Take home point: it was a great game.

I have a nasty headache and this SVU is a rerun.

If I am ever brutally murdered and the CSI lab is going over the evidence, they're going to be thrown off track by whatever insanity I've got written on the back of my hand. I tend to write cryptic notes to remind myself to tell people things later or to give myself things to think about, and other people running across them might think there's more meaning to them than there is. For example, if I were killed right now the cops would find this written on the back of my left hand:

1 in 15
we're all
going to
die

Which might come off as cryptic, out of context. It was a reminder that the prevalence of HIV infection in adults in the USA is 1 in 15. So, we're all going to die. Write it on your hands, it's great birth control.

Someday We Will Die And Somehow Something's Gonna Steal Our Carbon

I finished listening to the new Silverchair album (it's alright) and now I'm watching Grosse Point Blank. I love John Cusack, even after the travesty that was the movie Identity.

My 10-year high school reunion is next year and I've decided I'm not going. I will be graduating from college right about when it's going to be scheduled, and I don't want to have to go in to a room full of people my age who have spouses and kids and jobs and pets and mortgages and ulcers and explain that I'm still going to 21st birthday parties and getting stomped in mosh pits. I'm such a failure at being an adult. I'm damn glad I decided to go back to college and drag myself out of the retail hell that a lot of my contemporaries consigned themselves to, but I sure don't want to explain myself to the likes of the kids I went to high school with. There aren't many of them I'd like to see anyway, and the thought of going back to my hometown to stare rampant meth addiction in its pit-skinned, rotten-toothed face seems pretty unappealing.

Apparently I'm stuck into going to Modest Mouse with the original invitee. I guess it's not all bad. The concert is on 4-20 which promises to be the most annoying thing ever, but I plan on being pretty drunk through the whole night so it'll work itself out. Or else I'll sleep it off in a jail cell. You know, whatever comes up.

Go To Sleep Now, Little Ugly

I have three papers due on Tuesday and I've written about half of one of them. I made the horrible miscalculation of taking a study break that involved channel surfing into hour 2 of the 8-hour Stephen King miniseries The Stand. Which I then watched for the next six hours.

I invited someone to the Modest Mouse concert on the 20th and now I'd kind of like to get out of that and invite someone else, and I can't think of a reasonable way to make that happen.

I think my whole homework thing would be going a lot better if I hadn't taken some Vicodin earlier and then spent several hours feeling warm and fuzzy but not particularly academic. I'm very nearly out of Vicodin which means it's about time to go back to the doctor. Maybe this time somebody will actually attempt to solve my problems instead of throwing painkillers at them. Not that I'm necessarily complaining. I've taken the proactive step of actually collecting all of my various papers documenting my medical history into a file so I can bring it in and throw it down and say here, maybe this will explain it and I can stop paying to have the same tests done every six months. This is going to end in surgery again, I guarantee it. Sometimes I hate my life.

Spring Break wasn't enough, I think we all need another vacation.

hail mary full of grace

it might be nice for both of us if you just came over here and killed me

O Absalom, Absalom, My Son, My Son

The CSI that's on involves finding a body in a meat grinder, and it's just as nutritious as it sounds.

I'm going to the Queer Student Cultural Center's big gay drag show/dance tonight with Lila, and then hitting up lesbian night at the Kitty Kat Klub, which I've been promising to do for a good two years. We're going in costume, because how could we not, really?

I took some Midol, which is caffeinated, because I won't learn a lesson until I go into full fibrillation. If the next time you see me I'm on the ground clutching my arm and my lips are turning blue, I'd recommend telling the paramedics this story.

I told my mom I was taking a class that allows me to see cadaver dissections and she replied "Gross...I'd totally go if I were you." My mom makes me laugh.

We're Probably All Going To Die

I'm at PMS Danger Zone Red so you all better start being nice to me or someone's gonna get hurt.

I'm supposed to register for classes today at 1:25 and I have to start taking a test at 1:15 so that's bullshit. Seriously, if I don't get my classes I'm going to burn this college to the ground.

If I suddenly disappear and you never hear from me again, either I was kidnapped and murdered or I gave up and moved someplace warm so I could die from booze and pills and not from falling on the ice or Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Godsonofabitchingdammit

Wild lost 2-1 to the Anaheim Mighty Ducks in game one of the playoffs. I very nearly hurled my remote through the TV. I hurled it at the coffee table instead and I think it might be broken. Just like my heart.

We'll Build Our Homes On The Water

I'm taking a brief break from screeching at the Wild to bitch about my internet connection and how all of a sudden it's barely working. If this keeps up I'm going to burn this place down.

In other news, this is what we've got these days:



I will edit this in a while when the first game of the playoffs is over and I know if I need to kill a bitch in Anaheim or not.

Seriously, Stop Breaking My Heart

Seriously, stop breaking my heart.

Your Sister Gave Us Away

I have had "O, Valencia" in my head all day, and I don't really know the words, so it's just the sound of the lyrics playing in my mind. It's kind of annoying, actually.

The hangnail I keep complaining about it is now infected and that just makes it so much worse.

I went out to where Lila is pet-sitting tonight and made cheeseburgers and hung out with her and the dog. It's so rare that I eat meat, it's so much more delicious now. And the dog was cute. Then on the way home, it's nearly 11 at night and I'm at the bus stop at Central and University and suddenly Susan comes up and starts talking to me like it's the most natural thing in the world for us both to be there, but I can't wrap my mind around it at all. So the whole time we're having a conversation in my head I'm like, How did this happen? I'm so unprepared for surprises.

Speaking of things that I can't wrap my head around, today I went to the Bursar's office to pick up some stamps for my office and for some reason I couldn't stop saying things were cool. So every time the cashier said something I was like, "Cool. Oh, cool. Oh yeah, that's cool." And then he asked me if I wanted an envelope to carry the stamps in and I was like THAT WOULD BE COOL. I don't care what kind of envelope it is, that kind of enthusiasm is not warranted.

Merde Is The Only French Swear I Know

I needed to express my anger at the establishment that allowed all the stores in town to close for a religious holiday, so I sewed a duck.

Scar Tissue Was All We Had In Common

When I woke up this morning I realized I didn't have even one scrap of food, so I merrily set out to the Lund's on Central and University. Unfortunately, when I got there I discovered it was closed for Easter. That didn't solve my food problem, so I wandered around until I found a bus to downtown, and then I caught a bus from there to the Rainbow out on Snelling and University in Saint Paul. Turned out that was closed also, so I walked down to the Cub, but that was also closed. As were the Walmart and the Target. There is no place to buy groceries anywhere in the Twin Cities today. So thanks for that, Jesus. I finally gave up and went to the Village Wok, because you can always count on the Chinese.

I Love You But Let It Bleed

First of all, what would this blog be without me bitching about parts of me that hurt? That being said, I tore a hangnail off that ripped up under the nailbed and now my thumb is absolutely excruciatingly painful.

I had a whole productive day/night today and it made me feel like at least parts of what I do with myself are worth doing. The very first thing I did this morning after getting up and showering was to do my laundry, which is impressive if you're me. Then I mostly did the dishes (I just kind of gave up after a while and left it.) Then I met the guy who's taking Charlie's room in the fall. His name is Rodrigo which I will eventually stop laughing about, but he seems like a cool kid. He loves the Wild which I'm into. Then I sat around and watched cartoons for a few hours which was the low point of the productive period, but then, THEN, I went out to Acadia coffeehouse on Franklin and Nicollet and watched a performance art piece by a girl who used to date one of my friends. Said performance included a long sequence on masochism, graphic full frontal nudity, an awkward piece about self-mutilation, and a short film about the Crocodile Hunter on a search for the Female Orgasm. It was exactly as ridiculous and self-indulgent as it sounds. She had a nice rack so it was worth the $3. After that I hung out at Lila's and ate homemade soup with her and The Chop, and then some friends came over for a few minutes before I headed to Chad's and helped him make custard. Then we talked about the nature of masculinity and religion while we were eating bananas with fudge sauce. I love things like that. It was a great day.

Damn You Ice Cream, Get In My Mouth

I ate too much at Al's Breakfast. On the other hand, I know very few people in the world and a lot of them were there, which was weird. Kristi from London, Ani and Jon the BOA from HRL, and Bridget from one of the group projects I just finished. And Kari from Hamline was supposed to be there but she didn't make it on time. The point is, it was weird that so many people I know from different situations were all in the same tiny place at the same time.

My contacts are dry and it makes it hard to see the screen.

I got out of work an hour and a half early today because my boss didn't care enough to stay past 2:30 so he told me I could leave any time I wanted. I was also nearly half an hour late because I had a number of things go wrong this morning. First I couldn't get my hair to do anything, then the underwire poked out of my bra and I had to sew it back in. Then I finally got myself put together and I tried to leave, and I stood at the elevator for a good five minutes before I realized it just wasn't coming. So I booked it down the 12 floors to the ground and I ran out of the building just in time to see my bus drive by. So I had to walk the 20 minutes to work. I wasn't so happy about that.

I'm sleepy. I have no plans for the rest of the night except watching the trash TV that I usually miss because I have places to drink. Like The Soup on E! (which used to be Talk Soup and used to be hosted by Hal Sparks who is just a precious little bundle of effervescence. The host now is smarmy but I'd probably still tap that. I'm not above smarmy.)

Just so we have this on record, if I ever enter a persistent vegetative state I want you to pull the plug. Do Not Resuscitate.

You Always Come Back Right When I Need You

What was with how cold it was today? I didn't care for that at all.

Spongebob Squarepants is not made for little kids.

I wish I could stop chewing on my fingernails.

I'm going to the Take Back the Night fundraiser tomorrow night at Al's Breakfast (starts at 6 PM, I think) and you should go too. Delicious food and you can feel like you did something nice for the people.

I got mail from the Peace Corps today and it just made me feel like a failure. I had to come up with a Plan B and then a Plan C and now I think I'm on to Plan D. I wanted to go straight into getting my Master's in Public Health but the entrance requirement for the Maternal and Child Health program requires at least one year of experience working with women and/or children in a public health organization, and not only do I not have that, I don't know how to begin getting it. So then I decided to kill time while I was figuring everything else out by getting my Master's in Social Work, and it turns out the U has a macro-focused program (community work and administration, instead of one-on-one clinical or client-focused work which frankly I'm not suited for because I kind of lack the people skills.) So I thought, great, I'll do that. Then this morning in my social work class, the director of admissions came in to talk to us and said that nobody gets in without a year of experience. So I went and asked her and she said it would be a good idea for me to get client experience but that experience in planning or administration would be good enough to get me into the macro program. So now I pretty much have to take a year off between the end of undergrad and the beginning of grad school to gain the necessary experience, which is pretty stressful because it becomes extremely dependent on me getting a relevant job after graduation. Which is Plan D until something else comes up, I guess.

"Ourselves" Vs. "Other" Can Cram It With Walnuts

I've basically had to write the same paper like six times in my college career. It's about exploring the ideas of "race" and "whiteness" and "ethnicity" and the ambiguous boundaries and societal constructs of those things. I'm not even citing sources anymore, I'm just coughing up the same story about the Potato Famine Irish immigrants earning a place as "white people" by attacking black people. To be fair, I always love writing about boundary ambiguity and saying things like "boundary brokering" and "cognitive dissonance." It's the kind of buzzword-spewing I can really get behind, sort of like how the kids in Cultural Studies and Comparative Literature like to shout crap like "critical discourse" and "Michel Foucault." But I am a little tired about having to consider "whiteness" as a social construct. I've considered it; it is; let's move on.

It Was A Perfect Crime

A #1: This is the most fun ever. Graphic cartoon violence, when will you lose your charm?

Speaking of graphic cartoon violence, does anyone else remember those Tom and Jerry cartoons where Tom lived in a house with rich white people and they had a Mammy/Aunt Jemima housekeeper? Those cartoons were so incredibly racist. Easily as racist as those crows in Dumbo that thought they'd seen everything till they seen an elephant fly.

Speaking of things that will ruin our childhoods, enjoy this:

Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

I can't tell when but at some point the Law and Orders took over my life.

I'm taking an anatomy class next semester that involves observations of human dissections. Also an accounting class, just to even things out.

The Wild shut out Edmonton again tonight, and Boogaard and Radivojevic got in some great fights, so I enjoyed that.

The album The Good, The Bad, & The Queen is fantastic. Find it and embrace it.

Also, snow? No thank you. And the cutting wind can shove a tack in it.

Mr. Sprinkles, that's what I got.

Fuck You Buy My DVD

I should probably quit drinking. Every time I bother, I spend the whole next day just depressed. I am not the kind of girl who can afford to spend days depressed. Not if we all want to keep seeing each other and I'm not strapped to a bed or lying on a slab.

The good news is, I'm feeling better today. I've got those two classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays where group presentations are going to be a huge chunk of the rest of the semester, and I gave both of my presentations on the first day, so now I can just relax and do the crossword. In one of those classes the presentations are only going to be for the rest of this week, but in the other class it's pretty much for the rest of the semester. So it's like a mini-vacation from classes I hate, and nobody can disagree with that.

My mom told me the other day that I've had a pattern my whole life of getting through about February in the school year and then completely ceasing to care. It's true, my grades in Fall semester are always higher and I'm always more excited about my classes then. I'm pretty concerned about what that's going to do to next Spring, which will be my last semester in undergrad. Speaking of which, I'm being screwed so thoroughly by this University at this point there's nothing left to do but laugh. I was piecing together a workable schedule the other day, and I figured out that I have six classes left to take before I've completed all of my credits, and one of them I'm taking this summer. Leaving me with five classes to take in the Fall, which is obviously doable. However, howfuckingever, I need to take three "professional core" credits (I can choose from a list) and the Family Policy class. And the Family Policy class is scheduled at the same time as the professional core credit classes. So I have to choose, see, there's no other option but to choose. Not just that, but the list of professional core classes that are offered in the Fall are mostly classes I have already taken, two classes I want to take, and one class I will not take under any circumstances (Counseling Practicum I. I'd rather die.) So I'm taking the two classes I want to take and bumping Family Policy and the other professional core credit back to the Spring, effectively meaning I don't graduate on time. Through no fault of my own. And I pay the out-of-state tuition, so that's a good $16,000 or so more that I have to cough up to take two classes.

And I don't know if I mentioned it, but the merging of the College of Human Ecology and the College of Education and Human Development meant that I lost my scholarship funding entirely so I don't even know how I'm paying for next year. I hate this University's administration so much.

I need to get back to a happy space. I'll be spending the rest of today filing and/or making copies, and then learning very basic statistical analysis tonight, followed by a 15 minute bus ride that is the highlight of my Mondays and Wednesdays. That's so sad.

Try To Run But It Follows You Up A Hill

I tried all day to finish my homework but all I wanted to do was nap and stare at the TV. I made it through two of the three assignments and I got the sources for the last one, but then I just had to let it go.

I'm continuing to have the chest pain. I woke up hung over very early this morning and I seriously thought I was having a heart attack. I'm pretty tired of this whole thing.

I'm watching Adult Swim because I have no cultural relevance. And also no time management skills. Space Ghost is boring and most of these shows I would have to be high to appreciate at all.

This is the most boring weblog on the internet. I'm pretty tempted to tear the hit counter off the page so I can't see how many people I'm wasting the time of.

Woke Up This Morning, Got Myself A Gun

Woke up with a hangover when the church bells next door started ringing.

Parts of last night were really fun.

Parts of last night were some of us making mistakes.

I don't know what I'm doing.

Fuck You You Stupid Son Of A Bitch

I am four seconds from just giving up and crying. I've been drinking vodka for hours and nothing is goddamn going my way. I had a shit night for one specific reason which pisses me off because the rest of the night was just fine. I am so goddamn tired of being this person with this problem that can't be solved. What the fuck is so goddamn wrong with me?