put your shirt back on

Sorry, NaNoWriMo. I don't have enough time for a real life, say nothing of 50,000 words of a completely original story.

Just. No.

Oh my God, I am so burnt out right now.

I had a Chem test this morning that threw previously unseen curveballs at me. I'll be grateful to get a 'C'.

My bike screwed up AGAIN on the way to class, which nearly made me late for the aforementioned test. Its now parked on the other side of campus because I am too damn tired to deal with it.

I'm leaving for Spring Break tonight, which means I'm going to miss a staff bowling game we had planned that I forgot about.

I am starving, but my apartment is out of food, and I am too damn tired to go out and get some.

I have been working my ass off for these past three months, and I'm going to be working my Spring Break, anyway, for volunteer hours.

Long story short, I am now sitting on my ass, reading porn and waiting for a pizza to arrive. And I don't plan on moving until I'm on my way out of Pensacola.

GAH.

Something broke, my father is screaming curse words, and I am fighting the urge to climb out the window every time I hear something that resembled my name.

Jumpy? Who, me?

Ahaha, so I had a gypsy kind of day, today. I bribed my roommate, Ren, to into taking me down to the Social Security office to apply for a new card, so the lady in payroll will shut the hell up. It was a relatively painless process.

Afterwards, we went to get her car checked out, because the engine light had come on. Ren is no dummy, and was quizzing the guy on whether or not he was making up symptoms for her car so she would have to pay more. The guy got indignant, and Ren ignored him. Finally Ren agreed to let the car get checked out, and we went to go get some food at Hardee's. After that, we walked over to Walgreen's, where I promptly grabbed a Santa hat and put it on my head. Ren shopped around for Christmas presents, and I read magazines.

We were called back to the car shop, where they said that she needed a flush and an oil change. Ren coerced her father into paying for it, and we then marched across the street to browse a dying Blockbuster. We then went by Target, where we fought with lightsabers, messed with the electronics displays, and sat in the aisle to read more magazines.

We got the call that Ren's car was all better. We loaded up and sailed away to go pick up her paycheck and meander back to campus.

It was a gypsy kind of day because the day was warm and windy and wet (my favorite kind), and nothing felt better than to be dashing through traffic and wandering through stores with nothing in mind other than to kill time and just being bums.
I love the feeling of being outside the normal rhythm of things. You have no place to be, and no reason to hurry.

It's also funny, because many other people consider walking around a shopping area for hours with nothing else to do a living hell. They would get impatient and bored and frustrated very quickly. They might even feel stranded or cornered.

But Ren and I are both very easy-going people, and we had no problem entertaining ourselves.

I can't really describe why I had so much fun, today, doing nothing at all. I guess I'm just that kind of gal.

I am in a bad mood, and I'm rational enough to know that there is no real reason for it.
You know what that means.

Hopefully I can make it safely back into the world of free tampons before all hell breaks loose.

I'm very annoyed at my Art History teacher, too, but that has logic behind it. I made a dismal grade on a homework assignment on a technicality. I have been riding a borderline 'A' for a while, and this may be enough to push me into the 'B' range. Which annoys me.

The weather has given me a splendid headache, what with the temperature outside being all, "Brrr! It's fucking winter!" and the temperature inside the classrooms and my dorm being all, "Let's get tropical, bitch!" I have the window wide open and I'm still sweating.

I'm cautiously enthusiastic about Thanksgiving break, mostly because it's an excuse to give this school the finger and ride off into the sunset a few days ahead of schedule. Why, yes, I'm still bitter about the 'hurricane' fiasco. Thanks very much.
What I'm not looking forward to is, in order of least favorites:

01. The fighting, namely between my sister and my father.
02. The yelling, which will inevitably happen.
03. The guilt-trips.
04. Generally feeling like I'm twelve-years old, again.

Family time is stressful time. And people wonder why others hate the holidays.

I'm going to go eat junk food and sit on the internet for a while.

So yesterday was a day for Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle and tiling. In that order.

I got the bright idea, two nights ago, to catch up on xxxHolic, an awesome manga by CLAMP. I did, only to realize that it's sister manga, Tsubasa, which runs parallel to it with the occasional crossover, had carried on apace as well. So, of course, I had to read it, too.

It took me all. day.

It was a lot of fun, and I love the series even more than before, but DAMN. I think they started it in 2003. So, there was a lot of it.

And then, around 9pm, I became the Vampire Tile Cutter.

My mother and I are both extremely similar in that we both work our best in between 7pm and 3am. We were tailor-made for the graveyard shift. Also, our tiling project is the kitchen counters, a job we cannot tackle during daylight hours because everyone needs to eat and stuff.

We dry-fit, cut, sawed, sanded, poured, mixed, set, cursed, begged, and said, "The hell with it. That's good enough," until 4am, wherein we surveyed the newly tiled counters and agreed that it was now ice cream time.

I kind of enjoyed this particular venture into tiling. For one thing, counters are infinitely easier to tile than walls. And, like I said, late at night is my kind of shift. And, as a bonus, no one can bitch at me for sleeping in, god dammit.

Just got word that I lost my job at the school, due to budget cuts. They said if I ever did work/study, they'd try to hire me back.
At least now I don't have to juggle time between boredom at work and pissing time away between classes. Also, I'll probably get back into swimming.

In the meantime, I'm watching Generation Kill, a phenomenal HBO show about Recon Marines in Iraq during Operation Freedom. It's hardcore.

Generation Kill via watch-series.com

Tomorrow I leave for the grandparent's villa in good old Mississippi, which won't mean much, internet-wise, as they've set up an access point for their laptop-toting granddaughters. Woot.

The cousins are there, three girls that I haven't seen in about a year. It will be nice seeing them. For about a day. The eldest of the girls is thirteen, I believe, and the youngest is six, at most. They like shopping at Claire's, watching Spongebob, and the Jonas Brothers.

I love them. They are not my primo-vacation buddies. To them, I am as old as the hills. Heh.

The reconstruction of the house continues apace. Today, my mother and I tiled two of her kitchen counters. In truth, all that remains of the job I've been drafted into is one long kitchen counter, and an island. Not daunting in terms of labor, but I am so tired of this. As I pointed out to my mother, I'm never going to be enthusiastic about this because I was not included in the planning process.

Here's how this should have gone:

"Do you think we need to retile the counters?"
"What?"
"The counters. They need to change."
"Uhm..."
"And the cabinets. They need new paint. And maybe I'll take this cabinet door off and make a glass door, instead."
"Great... Sounds like fun."
"Oh, also I was repainting the bathroom and discovered that the shower base was cracked and needs to be replaced, and now's a perfect time to redecorate... We should tile that, too!"
"Yuh. Uhm, Dad? Mom's at it again. You have four other children, and I'm joining Greenpeace. Let me know how it goes."

END SCENE.

My mother swears that this job will be done by summer's end, and we as a family can then take an actual vacation, but I'm not holding my breath.

And I'd feel worse about how hard my mother's working, except that, uh. She kind of brought it on herself.


Anyway, in the meantime, I've rediscovered modern punk, a genre I'd left sometime in high school in pursuit of harder rock. The lighter instrumentation and messages of non-conformity and mischief strike a chord in me, nowadays.
It's just fun.

So, in preparation for my forays into Family-Reunion Land, I'm stocking up on Thrice, Rise Against, The Used, Atomship, Yellowcard, Panic at the Disco, and The All-American Rejects.

Last night was the Afterglow party at Floyd's, which roughly translates into, "Let's throw some foam on people and watch them rave with glowsticks and possibly have sex on the dance floor!"

I went in jeans, tennis shoes, and a t-shirt, as I was too goddamn lazy to shave or anything, I met friends, and a good time was had by all. While waiting for the foam to actually be dispensed, we used the empty dance floor as a fighting rink, sparring with glowsticks for knives. Once the dancing started, things got fun, and then surreal. We were either chest-deep in foam or standing in ankle-deep water stained with crushed glowsticks. There were some couples on that floor that were... into it.

::snerk::

Anyways, after we ditched the party, we came to realize that our perfectly white shirts had become slightly less so. We camped out at the Mickey D's next door, and then went to go jump in a friend's grandparent's pool. We tossed the extra glowsticks in to illuminate the water.
What this friend failed to mention was that the water was FUCKING FREEZING.

I went home in my underwear, something that might constitute a walk of shame, except that I cared for nothing other than getting a shower.

Awesome night, anyway.

I'm still sick, kind of. I turn 20 in less than a week. I have pink hair, chipped nail polish, and a ton of dirty laundry. I'm running up a sleep debt. There's a new episode of Burn Notice and Royal Pains tonight. Leverage is coming back this month. I'm on something like my tenth Diet Dr. Pepper of the day. I just got finished watching Blood Diamond, and I watched Garden State yesterday. I'm listening to some kind of bubblegum punk rock that makes me want to pierce something. I have a pair of jeans from the Drowning Pool concert that smell like a head shop.

I'm focusing on the good stuff.

AND NOW I'm reading a story. The story is thus:
"Leverage and Those Sex-Ass Boys from Supernatural Do .Hack"

I SHIT YOU NOT.