Intaglio 2.0

I stayed up way too late last night pretending to be an evil computer, after a long, hard week, and I don't even have any assignments yet.

Between the low-grade sinus infection and the changes to my vitamin schedule, I'm not really sleeping well.

I might do a mediator certification course this summer. I'm also applying to this totally sweet speechwriter position, because my department advisor insisted that I be forwarded the opportunity. I definitely wouldn't have seen it otherwise.

I don't think I'll get it (I just--don't have the experience they're wanting/needing) but the fact that my guiding professor/THE HEAD OF THE FUCKING DEPARTMENT personally recommended a sweet, srsbns college job opp to me is both

a) thrilling

and

b) TERRIFYING. WHAT AM ADULTHOOD. HOW DO I SHOT WORDS.

These people want me in their Rolodex, trollolololo.

I am sort of taken aback by his clear, obvs belief in my actual writing skills. Like to the point that I could use them for a job. A REAL JOB THAT PAYS REAL, GROWNUP MONEY.

AJEKFHSDJKLJksfdfjklhadsfjkhlasjkldfkhjakjsldfhlieuffhfs, indeed.

I have nine presentations, four papers, one research proposal and a TEAM EXPERIMENT to conduct in the next twelve weeks. I also have a constantly-on-the-threshold-of-maybe-being-a-conference-paper to, y'know, actually write.

The AIs are going to overtake the entire station and it is going to be glorious.

I've started actually using my gym membership, because like hell am I going to meet the king of the silver foxes looking like this.

I pulled that goddamn tendon in my leg. It's never been the same since I did that awesome sliding faceplant down the side of a volcano about six years back.

(Yes, really.)

It feels like someone took a shard of glass, and instead of cutting me with it, they sometimes poke the bottom of my foot really fucking hard and scrape and scrape until they almost get blood. Then they stop and repeat when I least expect it.

God, I can tell I'm not twenty anymore. Ow. :D

I've gone back to biting my nails. In other news: snow in New England; war in the Middle East.

I'm back from the beach.

The giant scary exam? That's done.

The bigger and scarier paper. It's not done. It's like, the more I do, the more there is to do. I did finally locate the rubric and start tailoring the mess to size.

I have thirty three pages of other scientists' convoluted garbage relevant studies that must magically become fifteen pages of hardcore unfucking with my Misguided Powers of English.

See, the rubric enlightened me. I can go to fifteen pages. Which is a mercy. My own conclusions, stacked end-to-end, are maybe 2.5 pages.

Putting everything in "I was going for simple-past but it's actually some mutant version of present tense", ala` my default fanfic!voice, made 109 pages of Copypasta WITH NOTES into...was it really still in the sixties two days ago?

The editing alone is some kind of nightmare.

It must get done, tomorrow. Or I fail.

And then I have to make another one just like it. Y'know, for the same reason.

*way off key and out of bounds* RUSSIAN ROULETTE IS NOT THE SAME WITHOUT A GUN

Also, I apparently kick ass at Texas hold 'em. And that quiz thing insists I'm Uhura.

Sometimes I think if I hear that word frequency just once more, I'll cry.

I most respectfully submit to Mr. J. Barden of Howard University that the social sciences are sciences, not literature and therefore do not demand the passive circuituous contortions of which you seem inordinately fond.

Also, this "co-occur"? Methinks the word you're groping for is "simultaneously".

I solemnly swear that one adverb will not kill you.

I could go on for pages about how I've learned my lesson and I'll never do it again, but those are both lies.

To the pain. <3

Okay, like, so, like, okay, LIKE.

Dr. Davis, like, e-mailed me back, and stuff.

And she like, would totally be. Now her exact, I mean, dude, I swear to god!

She used the h-word.

Very few of my people use this word, this h-word, and it is a very powerful word that gives me much happy buzzings AND SHE USED IT AND.

Oh.

Srysly.

Okay.

Read three more articles for the new attack direction I'll need to take as suggested by the Turnley/Bolino findings of '01.

Still trying to kludge through Snyders' 70's papers; I don't like his style. *Whine whine.* His premises fascinate, his findings illuminate, but ow ow ow, the style, it pains me.

So. Sorta a third of the way there.

Need outsider committee member and to make a proposal that doesn't suck, and then have them sign it, and then I can

finish LotR Extended and Matrix Trilogy
answer my semi-annual summons to Capital, brow-beaten and hysterical scribe in tow
sort out Financial Aid crap (AGAIN god I swear)
Register for fall term
Examine options for That Project With nyohah
HIBERNATE until 25th August

And start the cycle anew. ^_^

If you have my address, now is the perfect time for you to hop on a plane and come steal my stuff, because I'll be gone from soon until...sometime after the 25th...I don't know.

She has a brother, and I don't, and I won't think about it too hard, because he's dying of kidney failure anyway. To make a long drama short.

God bless the rest of the mess.

If anyone needs me, I'll be in the clock tower.

The National Dean's List?!?!

Don't laugh, but I'm becoming Simon Tam.

I am just brilliant enough to do everything in the world but save my sibling. See? See? IT'S TRUE. Also, I get to have buttsex with Jayne, and you don't. *Smug.*

Annoying forms and money. So? School wants annoying forms and money. Banks want annoying forms and money. Landlords, politicians, and eventually the nursing home?

They're all gonna want ANNOYING FORMS AND MONEY.

And I am gonna give it to them. Yes I am.

Up your ass sideways, Life. My brain is still good for something.

If anyone needs me, I'll be in the infirmary adjusting River's dosage. XD

I'm in an odd mood. Doubtless it must be something I dreamed about, but I can't remember, and. Why does this matter? Why does anything matter? WHY ARE WE HERE? lol.

( What I Can Do: )

( What I Cannot Do: )