Could I BE any more tired?



(no).

People who talk out loud to themselves in lounges suck. Especially when they're sitting extremely close to me for no reason at all, and I'm trying to write.

Also, reminder to self: write a short about the ridiculous spectacle you just witnessed, and don't bother to change the names.

Paladin

Waxen-lipped caricature,
Cheeks too full of blush.
His eyes, lids locked at long last.
Paladin. Fallen fatherhero.

My brother’s hand, my shoulder.
She is crying again.
Standing alone in a crowd,
My mother’s mascara flees down her face.

She was his springtide.
She was his summer.
She was his.

My own tears, like falling stars,
Are inadequate.

My history professor just broke out a Teddy Roosevelt action figure in class, and then told us to go here, if we wanted to get one of our own. Is it just me, or is that slightly ridiculous?

Who wants to go to work for me today?

Like They Say Juan Do

I recently purchased a harmonica on eBay for five dollars. Unbeknownst to me at the time of purchase, this particular harmonica has 48 holes in it, which I now understand to be somewhat advanced. I ordered a simple, 10-hole harp (apparently this is the proper slang), but while I wait for it to arrive, I've been messing around with the big mother, and it is seriously fun as hell.

I recommend that everyone go out and buy a harmonica post haste. I can't wait until I get the smaller one, so I can walk around with it in my back pocket and whip it out at random times.

Ok, I'm done talking for now. By the way, sorry about the title of this post; I'm listening to Breathe, haha.

Keep on Truckin'

Well, I'm still at it. And really bored. It seems that I can take an unlimited amount of Rising Sun breaks in between writing a paragraph or two and stay perpetually alert and awake. My next deadline - for the third and final section - is 7 a.m. Also, I need to do my Russian homework at some point. Great.

The Last Possible Minute

Why is it that I can't seem to do anything until The Last Possible Minute? I wrote a five-page paper for my Ulysses class between the hours of 1 a.m. and 7 a.m. on the day that it was due, two or three weeks ago, and I got an A-. That only serves to encourage this terrible habit, really. I'm sitting here now and it's nearly midnight, and I haven't started my 6-page take-home midterm for HIS261. At least, I'm pretty sure it's 261. Wish me luck?