I used to be a really hard worker. A determined worker. So much for that. I've got both parts of Henry IV to read for tomorrow, plus two articles, a novel, and a Canterbury Tale. The problem is, my body's already shutting down. It's way too early for a night owl like me to be this tired, but I just want to crawl into bed and pull up the sheets. It feels like it's the first real night of fall and I should spend it carving a pumpking and petting a kitten, not stressing.
I can't wait till I get in my new place...
Sandy (my soon-to-be landlady) says that she and her husband will lure Sylvester home from the neighbor's house where he's been hiding out to escape having his ass handed to him by the oldest (and fattest) cat, Sam. She thinks now that it's getting cold, he'll enjoy living in the basement with me. I haven't asked, but I'm assuming he's black and white. Sandy says he's very cuddly. She also says that Nick, the third cat, will be banging on my door looking for attention. I've met Nick and he's a sweetie. For that matter, I like Sam too.
And I haven't even gotten started about Molly the Jack Russell terrier... Jack Russell terriers have been described as big dogs in little-dog bodies. They've also been described as "on crack." Both apply to Molly.
I just hope my landlords continue to be as nice as they've been so far...
I fucking hate grad school.
It's hit me. I have nothing new or innovative to offer. I have a blank look on my face. I've lost my bullshit tolerance. I can't do this anymore.
My classmates think I'm kidding. I'm not.
I know I have a lot to offer the world. Now I have to figure out what. Because I'm certainly not finding it in grad school.
I love Brak. What other supervillain can you think of that got hit by a stupid ray?
When I move into my new apartment, I'll be able to watch Brak wreak mayhem. Ahhh mayhem...