I kick you, internal clock!

I was wide awake at 9:30 this morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed. You know what's worse than being woken up early on a day off? Waking up early for no reason on your day off. And it's not like I went to bed early last night, so I'm running on less sleep this weekend than I did all week last week. I've really had enough now. What's funny is that this week, when I can't sleep in - that's when my body will decide that I should stay in bed all day. Stupid body. *kicks it*

Had a few more wierd-ass dreams last night. I think I might be losing my mind. Not sure though, I'll keep you posted.

Right now I'm trying to finish this stupid book for History so I can do my book report on it. It's the most rediculous thing in the world. It's called Indian Givers, by Jack Weatherford. If you want a laugh, or something to put you to sleep, try this book. He argues that the potato single-handedly led to trippling the world's population from 1750-1950, that the fur trade single-handedly started the capitolist revolution, and that a corn seed revolutionized world agriculture. I can see how all of these things influenced such changes. But there's never one single cause for anything. This man is on crack. Indian crack, even, because everyone knows indians make the best everything and therefore their crack must also be the best. Pissant.

I guess I'm a little cranky today. Nevermind me, move along, move along.

A drabble

Wrote this last night, sitting at the bar, when inspiration struck.


People stop, pausing their evening walks, to peer through the rain-slick window panes. Umbrellas and rain bonnets, black as night and drenched as the pavement, glitter like prisms in the street light. Through the lazy blue-grey haze of cigarette smoke, emerald eyes peer out from under an old fashioned fedora across the piano. Slight stuble gracing a square jaw, narrow nose, and eyebrows as sharp as steel. He is smiling at me, grinning through the jazz that fills the room. But this scene is a thousand miles away. This night, like any other, shall fade into last night and tomorrow’s.

Crimeny!

Where did my fucking weekend go? ARGH!

It's midnight, here, on Sunday/Monday. I have class in 9 hours, and I only have one sentence of the required 3 page paper for that class completed. Luckily, it is only three pages, and no one can write three pages of utter gobshite like I can.

But then, I have to do my paper on Foucault, which is due tomorrow night. And, since I have class and meetings all day tomorrow, I have to finish it tonight. And you know that's not going to be an easy one to write. I haven't even been able to bring myself to look at the paper explanation.

I'm really in the hating school mood again, because my weekend is fucking gone. I didn't even get to really enjoy it, and it's gone. Now, tomorrow, I have classes and meetings from 9am-9pm, then work from 9pm-3am, sometime in between I'm going to have buy shaving cream, because i'm out, come home, change clothes for work, shave, and get back to school. Then tuesday, I have class in the morning, advising right after that, volunteer work from 3-6pm, then I have two study groups to go to until midnight. Then wednesday I have class from 9-2, work from 3-2am at the catering company. Thursday I have class in the morning, volunteer from 3-6, work from 8-3am at the bar. friday i have a midterm at 9, class at 10:40, another midterm at 2, and I work from 5-2am.

Meanwhile I just want to sit here and bawl.