August 22, 2003 :: 1:59 a.m.
episode #1,000, in which I want to use the word "fecundity"
The horrible unattractiveness of your thighs sticking to vinyl-type furniture: just one more reason to never wear shorts. Not only is it unappealing aesthetically, but hey, ouch. When you have as much thigh fat as I do, these things can get painful.
It's Friday, technically, and... wow. I'm having some trouble coming to grips with the fact that my summer will be coming to a thundering end in just three days, mostly because I feel like I've done nothing at all for the past few months and summer is supposed to be "Do Stuff" time. Once again I fail to take advantage of the situation. Although to my credit, it's hard to seize the moment when you can't afford gas or a pack of gum. The best things in life may be free, but the most entertaining ones certainly aren't. Also, school? So not looking forward to it. I suppose I should try to be optimistic about things, but as my optimistic views tend to very much resemble my pessimistic ones I doubt it would accomplish much. Think "Wow, am I ever sure that this is going to suck!" compared to "For the love of christ, please save me from the sucking black void that is higher education." There's a slight variation involved, but nothing worth pursuing.
Adam and I took a trip to both of our schools today; mine was fruitless and his was fraught with very unpleasant people. The folks at Penn State are possibly the least friendly college workers that I've ever met, with the exception my surly advisor at HACC. Bitter and snippy and unwelcoming... sort of like me, only thirty years older and somehow even more unsociable. It was interesting in that "Let's not ever do that again, okay?" kind of way. I have to trek back to HACC sometime soon to do loan deferment stuff, though, so it appears that once again my wishes will go ungranted.
Hey, wow. This is my 1,000th entry. I never knew I had it in me to be so endlessly long-winded. Craziness.
I'm tired. Unreasonably so, considering that I didn't get up until 11:30 this morning. I'm talking a full-on bout of heavy-lidded, incoherent, accidentally drooling on the keyboard fatigue. It's ridiculous. And yet the siren call of sleep is irresistible to me, logic be damned. I must answer it or fall to my horrific death and dismemberment at the hands of the raging harpies of slumber.
Ahem. Losing wits. Goodnight.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005