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I am a lazy, lazy whore. Didn't wake up today until 2:30.
But I didn't go to bed 'til six. Because *yesterday*, I woke up at 10:30, stayed up long enough to watch All My Children (because Ryan/Kendall/Greenlee is my OT3, y'all, and they are currently having a baby, yes, all three of them...I love soap operas), and then passed out again 'til four.
Anyway, to sum up = lazy whore.
I blame my inability to deny myself anything. If I didn't have the mattress pad and the suede comforter and the indecently luxurious sheets (350 thread count! you don't even know!) and the six pillows...it would at least be *easier* to convince myself that no, really, I do have goals in life I cannot fulfill from bed.
I went to *one* class out of *five* on Thursday. I shouldn't be allowed to run my own life. But Alyssa refuses to come do it for me, and Dena's too nice to kick my ass (most of the time).
I miss my Dena! With Alyssa, I'm used to the long-distance friendship thing! She's been gone for, jesus, like four years now. But Dena! I miss her! And also, I miss having someone to have breakfast and go garage-saling and watch horribly addictive teen dramas with!
College sucks. I am no good with new people. Outside the people in my classes, I've made exactly one friend in three months. Eh.
I've started talking to Laura again, though (yay, she's not dead!). It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't mock me for the slash-reading (Richard takes far too much pleasure in informing almost everyone he knows that his sister reads gay porn, 'cause he's a jackass (who can now drive, god help us all)...but at least he's been permanently trained out of reading over my shoulder).
I've even gotten Laura to start in on the SGA slash! Yay, me! And, y'know, yay, her, for being absurdly trusting of my taste. I love Laura.
I think Laura still has one of my books. The one with The Fire's Stone in it. And I want to read it again. Know what else I want to read again? That superhero anthology with the best what-if *ever*: What if, as a baby, Superman hadn't landed in Kansas...but in the Soviet Union?. Something we talked about in my Lit & Culture class (which is nowhere near as fun as I thought it'd be) gave me a yen. And I totally would be reading it again, if I knew where it was.
I don't like this, having my books in so many places. Books here at the dorm, books at home, books in the garage, in Dad's little Fortress of Solitude, in the car, books Richard's stolen (and omg, last time, he took Swordspoint! ha! also, grrr, 'cause I hadn't finished that book and he should know the rules by now, but he's a bastard), books I lent to Jessica that I'm probably going to have to mug her to get back...
Too many places. But it costs too much to rent a place big enough to store them all.
Oh, well, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride (my illogical fondness for strange sayings knows no bounds).
Now to (hopefully) finish updating the Index o' Doom for Laura (this makes *four days* I've been working on this).
But I didn't go to bed 'til six. Because *yesterday*, I woke up at 10:30, stayed up long enough to watch All My Children (because Ryan/Kendall/Greenlee is my OT3, y'all, and they are currently having a baby, yes, all three of them...I love soap operas), and then passed out again 'til four.
Anyway, to sum up = lazy whore.
I blame my inability to deny myself anything. If I didn't have the mattress pad and the suede comforter and the indecently luxurious sheets (350 thread count! you don't even know!) and the six pillows...it would at least be *easier* to convince myself that no, really, I do have goals in life I cannot fulfill from bed.
I went to *one* class out of *five* on Thursday. I shouldn't be allowed to run my own life. But Alyssa refuses to come do it for me, and Dena's too nice to kick my ass (most of the time).
I miss my Dena! With Alyssa, I'm used to the long-distance friendship thing! She's been gone for, jesus, like four years now. But Dena! I miss her! And also, I miss having someone to have breakfast and go garage-saling and watch horribly addictive teen dramas with!
College sucks. I am no good with new people. Outside the people in my classes, I've made exactly one friend in three months. Eh.
I've started talking to Laura again, though (yay, she's not dead!). It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't mock me for the slash-reading (Richard takes far too much pleasure in informing almost everyone he knows that his sister reads gay porn, 'cause he's a jackass (who can now drive, god help us all)...but at least he's been permanently trained out of reading over my shoulder).
I've even gotten Laura to start in on the SGA slash! Yay, me! And, y'know, yay, her, for being absurdly trusting of my taste. I love Laura.
I think Laura still has one of my books. The one with The Fire's Stone in it. And I want to read it again. Know what else I want to read again? That superhero anthology with the best what-if *ever*: What if, as a baby, Superman hadn't landed in Kansas...but in the Soviet Union?. Something we talked about in my Lit & Culture class (which is nowhere near as fun as I thought it'd be) gave me a yen. And I totally would be reading it again, if I knew where it was.
I don't like this, having my books in so many places. Books here at the dorm, books at home, books in the garage, in Dad's little Fortress of Solitude, in the car, books Richard's stolen (and omg, last time, he took Swordspoint! ha! also, grrr, 'cause I hadn't finished that book and he should know the rules by now, but he's a bastard), books I lent to Jessica that I'm probably going to have to mug her to get back...
Too many places. But it costs too much to rent a place big enough to store them all.
Oh, well, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride (my illogical fondness for strange sayings knows no bounds).
Now to (hopefully) finish updating the Index o' Doom for Laura (this makes *four days* I've been working on this).