godream

Work at the library, in spite of the whole being surrounded by books business, tends to involve me on autopilot. At some point over the last almost-a-year, I seem to have internalized the dewey decimal system and the categories we use enough that I reshelve using about two braincells. The rest are usually either slowly dying or considering BtVS, poetry, and various strange ideas. Today was a poetry day -- well, a song, really, but seeing as I haven't gotten around to fooling with chords etc beyond a basic melody in my head there's not much difference, is there? In any event I had this little snippet of chorus stuck in my mind so I figured I'd inflict it on anyone reading this, in the hopes of getting it out. Or else getting inspiration to throw a couple verses in.

and this isn't a confession
I've done nothing wrong
it isn't an obsession
it's just another song
without your name writ in it
though we both know:
it's you that i am singing,
when i say oh----...

...and that looks really, really lame when actually written. That's kind of disappointing: it sounded kind of cool in my head. Oh well.

Brainless again. Lost track of which week's schedule today was and was late to my Shakespeare class because of it, which I'm feeling stupid about. Then proceeded to bomb the pop quiz the teacher's been hinting at all week, mainly because since I thought it was the other schedule I'd anticipated having first block to study before going to take the quiz. Oops.

Finished today's physics test twenty minutes early. This makes me nervous since the teacher's been mentioning all week that it'll be a long test, she let people start a bit early, and she warned us several times that if we got stuck on a problem the best thing to do would be to move on, since otherwise we wouldn't have time to finish. Nobody else was done at quarter past two when I passed mine in, after checking answers twice. Did I skip a page or something? (Of course it could have something to do with the fact that the course I took last year also covered this material, so it's all review for me...)

Tried to give the Essay of Doom to my counselor, with the explanation that though I was pretty sure it was fine grammatically and structurally I wasn't sure if it was quite appropriate for the whole collegey scholarshippy thing. He didn't listen much, I think, and recommended I show it to an english teacher and ask for an opinion. Which I did, because I hate arguing, and it can't hurt right? Requested that last year's teacher take a look at it since I figured I wasn't in this year's teacher's best graces at the moment. (see above re: stupid + late). But any problems with the essay I'd figure were only having to do with the venue, which presumably a counselor would know best about. Oh well. Bleh. Anyone want to see the silly thing? Let me know and I'll post it up here sometime, maybe.

On an entirely different note, this is fascinating.

And on yet another note: ( it's hard to get sillier than... )

Plus-- ( scarily accurate, but I think I've posted this before. )

Spent this afternoon with nickigirl02 and Ann, which totally made my day. Antisocial-avoidant as I am, I still have to admit there's still very little that beats the mall&movie thing with friends. So all sorts of warm fuzzies there. :)

I should be doing homework. I'm not. This is because I suck.

If you should be doing homework too but are looking for stuff to procrastinate on, feel free to go review my pretentious poetry.

From nickigirl02:

My life is rated G.
What is your life rated?

And -- since everyone else put in their two cents -- I think the new layout's very nice, very streamlined, but I miss the pretty purple-and-other-colors header with all the neato words. ;(

...how much I despise homework. Blah.

Also carting books back and forth from house to house, and oh yeah, crowded hallways. The rose-tinted glasses of back-to-school have been thoroughly scratched up and abused by a whole week of school.

That's what, five days down, 175 to go? Eek.

On the plus side, classes don't suck (much), teachers are nice, jury's still out on my new counselor but tilting towards the positive, and there's a chance of actually having a couple people to hang out with even though my best friend at LS graduated last year. So not bad, overall. We'll see.

I really have to dig up a LJ icon for myself, don't I? Suggestions, anyone? ... Maybe I should dig up the digital camera and distort a picture of myself. Or maybe I should just find a Buffy site and steal a Spike picture-- James Marsters is much nicer to look at anyways, trust me.

It was barely scratched except for the fsking airbag, but evidently that's totaled. Not only does this mean I won't even have the tattered remains of a once plump savings account, it means it absolutely must go through insurance channels, upping my dad's insurance, and that I should have filled out the accident report as of three days ago...

... have I mentioned lately I hate myself? 'Cause I do.

So I'm back-to-school shopping with my little sister, the one I like to call Rikku, and my stepsister who I refer to as Lulu. Most of the pants Rikku tries on don't fit, she complains, stepping outside the dressing room in another ill-chosen garment. Either the legs are too short or the waist too big. Because she's four foot eight and seventy three pounds. God I wish I had her problem... :P

On an entirely different note, thanks for all the supportive notes while I was spazzing this week. You've no idea how much they meant to me. :) *hugs*

So I found out it's likely to be fifteen hundred, not five. Can I just mention how much that SUCKS? ... But we're down to one or two crying jags a day and I think either I'm going into shock from the prospect of working all summer for what (though I intellectually know otherwise) feels like wasting all this money for nothing, or starting to get over it.

I guess it's kinda sad that I'm more worried over the money than anything else. Maybe it's just a really potent distracter from the dent this put in my self-esteem. Or maybe, considering the situation, it really does matter most.