Gah! I have had a silly day. Unproductive.

Invoking my seething rage today was the incident at le papier offices. I had confirmed my desires for a hoody like 3 times, explicitly, but apparently there was still a "fumble in the paperwork." Ah. I see. But, I handled it well.

Did you know that the SU is handing out little pads of bubblewrap to better our stress management? That's a laugh. I say, "if it can't be used in a homicide...fuggeddaboudit." I still managed to methodically pop every single one of them though, but that was owing more to my sheer amusement then anything else.

After coffee with some of the boys, I went home and sort of pondered over things--again-- in lieu of actually being productive. I laid in the front yard and read my shitty irish novel that thusfar, would make better use via masonry, then as an actual piece of reading material. Fuck.

I haven't started the essay. I haven't studied for two finals on thursday. I am not fubarred yet, but ...the time is drawing nigh.

I'm starting to realize how strange I am in relation to the rest of the world (ahhh, yes, the cult of individuality). For example: When I go to Second Cup, by campus, and sit there and just listen to the conversations roaring around me, chances are, I will pick up the same phrases said by seperate people, over and over, on completely different sides of the room. Everyone else is perfectly happy in this mundane existance revolving around going on holidays to the Shushwaps, or buying shoes, or Jesus, or whatever, and I just sit there sort of agog at the fact that I couldn't be that happy with constant short term thinking like that, if I tried. Or that simple. I mean, I'm envious of it, and horrified of it at the same time. And then I contemplate if people like me are the ones that haven't figured out how to get onto that plane, which is ridiculous, but still interesting to think about. But seriously... we all have niches, right? So I just have to find mine. Or do I find it? Or do I look down at my shit one day and go, "oh, I've been here all along?" Or does it just come flying around the corner and bitchslap me in the face? I'd prefer the latter, at least I'd know it to appreciate it.

I think part of the problem is that I'm hideously bored with things right now. The reason I've realized that I (along with others) have become meticulous event planners is because we're so incredibly relieved that we have discovered something to do that will be fun and amusing, even if only for a brief time. We can't be spontaneous, because there's nothing to be spontaneous for. This is one of the reasons I'm looking forward to Nerrimada. Discovery, adventure, and new people, albeit briefly.

So, I've been entertaining the idea of a lover again. And I say lover because I want to be euphamistic so as to pretend I have an ounce of class. The thing is, my optimal choice...is ...very ...hard to read and an ill-timed surprising-and-bound-to-be-dissappointing thing. And the second choice, I'm still thinking about, but I really don't trust him. There's just something unsettling about the whole thing, namely that he's very mysterious about himself. Red flags abound, and frankly, Elvis would suffice over an STD and well...any man, really. Fuck. DONE! Decision made! MEN = OUT!

If only I really meant that. I've been on an anti-male kick lately, where if my thoughts wander to the opposite sex, I scrutinize the nearest object and describe the details of it to myself in my head. It works most of the time, and I'll begin logging some of them later maybe. Just for hilarity.

I suppose I should start this paper now. My parents bought Starbuck beans for me. Blasphemous, but if I let it go to waste, the work of starving migrant worker's will have been for nothing.  ¶ 10:04 PM