29 April 2010

lurve My Dorky self

I found a summer job!

Pats on the backs all around.

I'll be working in a call center for an alarm company. It sounds pretty similar to what I did as an office manager for American Alarm (before the company went belly-up from some seriously unethical behaviors on the part of the company's founder) except back then I had to work with some pretty oily, nasty, bottom-of-the-barrel salesmen.


But not this time! Now it's just me and a phone and a keyboard. Good times are guaranteed to be had by all.

The job ends in September, at which point I'll return to my current workstudy job. I found out that they're not planning on hiring back two of the workstudy students (on account of their being unreliable, lazy moochers) but they WILL be hiring Blockhead back (on account of his being reliable, punctual, and productive). Sure, he's dense, incredibly and unabashedly dense, but as long as he doesn't let that get in the way of being reliable, punctual and productive, then there are no problems.

Well...there are problems, but they only seem to affect me, so I'll just shut up and get back to work.

Did anyone else notice how catchy "pats on the backs all around" is to say out loud? Feels like iambic pentameter.


28 April 2010

it's A great song, I Care not what You think

Can anyone tell me why Shaq is in Owl City's Vanilla Twilight music video?

Owl City Vanilla Twilight

Not that there has to be a reason, I guess...it's just that...there really ought to be a reason!

In my search for a reason, I stumbled on this:

Why is Shaquille O'Neal in the new Owl City video?

They came up with some pretty humorous possibilities (yet, all laced with hints of actuality. like the "security video" reason...oh yeah, that's the reason, for sure).

25 April 2010


I had to cook dinner on Saturday night.

It wasn't going to be a big deal. Salad and grilled chicken. I've made salad. I can grill chicken. I'm not entirely incompetent.

So I get the salad ready. Tear up the lettuce, shred some carrot, slice a little bit of onion, toss it in a bowl. Already I could tell this salad was going to taste flat. I didn't have anything else I could add to it, though. Oh well, that's what dressings are for, right?
I threw in a dash of seasoning, just to be safe. Regretting that decision almost immediately, I put plastic wrap over the bowl and shoved it in the fridge.

Next, the chicken.

I took three large (honking huge kind of large) chicken breasts out of the freezer and set them in the microwave to defrost. I started pacing the kitchen. I was nervous.

Yes. Nervous. About grilling chicken. Please don't mock me, this is a sensitive and delicate situation.

While they were defrosting I had a thought: Chicken and salad might not be enough. Maybe we need something else...something that goes with chicken...what do we usually eat with chicken?...Mashed Potatoes!!
So I washed a bowl and got the potatoes ready. Instant mashed potatoes, how hard could it be?

Chicken finally finished defrosting. I brought them out, covered them in tasty seasonings and flavors, and then threw them into the pan. They immediately started hissing angrily (and loudly) at me.
I don't react well to negative energy, especially when it's directed at me, usually from people. It makes me tense and uncomfortable. Apparently I react the same way from (imagined) negative energy directed at me from uncooked poultry. I know it sounds stupid, and a little crazy, but I really felt like the chicken was hissing at me for being an incompetent cook, which reinforced my feelings that I do not belong in the kitchen. The hissing just kept getting louder and my feelings of inferiority increased, as did my frustration with the potatoes.

Let's talk about those potatoes.

Directions called for two cups of boiling water and one cup of potato pellets (are they "pellets"? or granules or something...i'm sure there's a word for it). But who needs directions, right? We'll just use straight hot water from the tap. It actually starts steaming, that's how hot it gets. I'm sure it'll work just as well.

  • "Steaming" is NOT "boiling." Make a note of it.

I poured in the water, I poured in the pellets/granules/obnoxious potato bits, and started stirring like a mad woman. About the time the muscles in my forearm started cramping up from whisking so quickly, I realized that the potatoes weren't dissolving. The water wasn't hot enough.
I should have started over. I should have scrapped the first attempt, actually taken the time to boil water and it would have been fine. So of course, that is not what I did.

I threw the bowl into the microwave in hopes that if I made it hotter then...then I don't know what I thought would happen. Looking back on it, my thought processes made no sense. The chemical reaction between granules/pearls/pellets and the water had already taken place, and heat was not going to further that reaction at all.
*looks at floor and shakes head side to side in pitiable and miserable manner*
Well that's what I did anyway. And when it was hotter I added more pearly potato pellets into the bowl and mixed again and then...can you guess?...nothing happened.
Well, no. Not nothing. It actually got worse. It was too dry to mix properly so I added a little (a tiny bit!) more water, which turned it into soupy nastiness, so I added more pel--*sigh* you can see where this is going.

I'm like a freaking ten year old.

Angry hissing kept getting louder in the midst of all this.

I finally scrapped all of it. (waste! i hate to waste! especially food! bad, evil, boo, hisssss!!) I washed the sauce pan and boiled the water. This time the mashed potatoes turned out too thin...not thick and fluffy, like they should be. But I WASN'T going to try to fix it; we all know what happens when I try to go down that road. So I left 'em alone.

Stupid chicken kept hissing at me. The outside of the poultry was looking deliciously golden-brown, but the inside was still pink-ish. Drat. So I turned up the heat, which inadvertently increased the hateful hissing, which caused my soul to shrivel a little bit. I wanted to flee the confines of my stupid, nasty, tiny kitchen, but I forced myself to stay.

Eventually the chicken was thoroughly cooked. I took them off the pan and the hissing stopped, which immediately restored (some of) my confidence. Apparently the chicken had been making me more insecure than I realized, because as soon as the hissing stopped I was able to straighten my shoulders and stand taller.Yes, I unconsciously slouched in the face of hissing poultry. I'm pathetic. Pity me.

I had plans to wipe down counters and do a load of dishes as soon as the chicken was done. But after everything was ready for dinner, I had no desire to stand on the linoleum any longer. I actually cringed at the sight of the washcloth.
My kitchen is nasty, and I want to clean it, but I couldn't stand being in there even a minute more.

The guests that I had suffered extreme psychological and emotional abuse for ended up canceling last minute. They texted me saying, and I quote:

"Can't make it tonight.

Would've been great to know that BEFORE going through this huge ordeal. Thanks a lot.

I'll just cry at night.

No big deal.

P.S. I actually went and looked, they're called "potato gems
Pellets. Gems. I was close.

22 April 2010

humming Absent-mindedly Through class

Ever have one of those days where everything just falls into place?

  • The class I've been on the waitlist for opened up this morning so I could register. It's now official, and my class schedule is set for Fall.
  • I found a summer job, and my teacher is willing to let me take the Final half an hour early so I can make it to my training meeting on time.
  • I finished one of my Finals today; it's done, over, forever behind me.
  • My bills are all paid.
  • I get to draw tonight. :)

It's been a long time since I've had a day like this. It surprises me how good it feels. It's the kind of good that makes your step a little lighter and your vision a little clearer. It also makes you a little paranoid about what's waiting for you at home. Or makes you a little guilty for so completely enjoying the moment, when you know people who are really hating life right now. My mind feels less cluttered, but a bittersweet twinge of wariness lingers in the cleared corners.

I'm not sure I trust this good feeling. I'll just enjoy it for as long as it lasts, and not worry about the "as long as it lasts" part.

21 April 2010

should I Feel guilty? cuz I don't

You remember that girl that rides my bus, from the last post? Yeah, you remember.

I totally blew her off. *guilty shrug* She and/or her husband was/were supposed to come to the apartment and give us a spiel about the company...you remember all this? And how I wasn't looking forward to it? Well...

My husband ended up being "conveniently" out of town that afternoon and I "coincidentally" stayed on campus working on a final project. *another guilty shrug*
If I'd had her number at the time, I would have called and told her we were busy (which we were; busy avoiding her). So we both avoided our apartment the whole afternoon. I know, how inconvenient, right?

Maybe it was rude. Maybe it was deceitful. Maybe it was wrong.
But my husband got a new tent (on sale) while he was out and I finished my project ahead of schedule, which puts me ahead of the class.

I make no apologies.

I've also finagled my schedule so that I won't have to see her on the bus for the rest of this week or, hopefully, the rest of the semester.

Call it cowardice, call it passive-aggressive, call it hypocritical, call it whatever you want. I will openly agree with you on any of those points and more. I can't say I feel bad about it, though. I'm that desperate to not have to deal with this girl anymore.
I do feel bad about all the times I've guilted other people for their cowardice, and the complaints I've lodged against people who use passive-aggressive tactics to get their way, and I feel bad about seeing myself in this hypocritical light.


I do not feel bad about avoiding this girl. Not one iota.

20 April 2010

I Don't mean to Be a Deceiver

There's a girl that rides my bus in the mornings. She's very talkative. I try to read, but she keeps talking to me (subtlety is not my super-power). It gets to a point where it would be rude of me to continue looking at my book without responding to her. So, with a sigh of resignation, I put my book away and enter the conversation.

I don't enjoy these conversations.

She's friendly and everything, but it feels very one-sided. I tried telling her about my expectations for a future class and she had me repeat the set-up three times (i don't know if she couldn't hear me or if she just wasn't listening, but it was annoying) and by the time we had established the set-up, and I was ready to launch into the punchline, she started up her own story and cut me off.

Not a huge deal. We all do it from time to time. Most of the time it's an accident.

Except she cut me off in the middle of saying a word.

It irks me. It's one thing to see my side of the conversation go into one ear and out the other, but to cut me off entirely? I might as well be a brick wall. She doesn't want a responder, just a face to talk at.

And yet I keep trying because I recognize that we have to see each other at least three times a week and offending her could make things really uncomfortable for me. So I search for things we can talk about.

We talked about holistic medicine. We both like holistic medicine and agree that a perfect harmony will be found in using some traditional Western medication and some holistic approaches. She told me about this local doctor whose program she really likes. Then it was my turn, and I told her about a doctor that my mom is seeing and has shown some promising results.

I thought we were having a friendly, reciprocal conversation based on our common interest in holistic methods.

Apparently, I was wrong.

She started trying to tell me how her doctor was better than my mom's, and I needed to tell my mom about this other guy so she could get on his program as soon as possible.
*sigh* Just stop. This isn't a competition about whose doctor is best. If there was a single doctor out there with a cure-all method, I guarantee, he'd be the only one in business. Different methods work for different people. It's okay. Just settle down and stop yourself.

I don't bring up medicine or health anymore.

We talked about classes, and that was fine. We're both in school, she's studying music and I'm studying art, so we've got some common demands on our schedules.  It was a good topic of conversation for one whole bus ride. After that, though, there's not a whole lot more you can say. I tried tapping into that vein again the next morning and found that it was dry.

I mentioned that I'm trying to find a part-time job for the summer. What a mistake.

Now I'm in a drama dealing with Primerica, which is a company her husband is being trained for and they're both really excited about it and can we come over to your apartment to tell you about it and blah blah blah.
The problem is that Primerica has already offered me a job, we're set up to have an interview, and I'm going to turn it down. I'm actually planning on calling him Monday to cancel the interview. My husband had an interview with them a few months ago and he turned it down, too. Something about it just didn't sit right.

*Disclaimer!!* Not to say there's anything wrong with Primerica, they sound like a great company and I'm sure they've helped a lot of people. I just don't think I'm the right personality to work for them. *Disclaimer over!!*

I got wrangled into agreeing to sit with her husband and listen to his spiel about the company. It helps him in his training, and we don't have to commit to anything, how bad could it be? Regardless, I'm not looking forward to it.

I've decided I don't really like this girl that much. I don't see us graduating from acquaintences to friends.
This morning, chatting on our walk from the bus into the school, she punched my arm. Friendly, familiar, playful physical contact.

Ah crap.

16 April 2010

I wish i Were Noble

I used to wear make-up. I remember in high school caring a lot about how I looked. I would panic if I had a break-out (it still happened all the time, freak out or no) and would proceed to desperately cake my face in cream-colored powders and liquids.

I remember thinking mascara was pretty. And eye-liner. And that eye shadow looked natural.

Mascara is still pretty...on other people. Eye-liner is distracting. And eye liner is anything but natural-looking.

I almost wish I could say that I stopped wearing make-up for moral or ethical reasons; that I'm staunchly opposed to the cosmetics industry and I refuse to support them. Or that I'm standing up against the perpetuated belief that women have to look a certain way to be considered "beautiful." That it's for women's rights, or the economy, or politics, or global-warming, or something.

Sadly, no.

One fateful day I had $7 and the choice between gas in my car, food to eat, or a single tube of lipstick that would only match ONE blouse in my closet.

It was a hard choice.

Lipstick did not win.

(in case you were wondering)

And then I worked at a scout camp for a summer with my fiance and realized, 'This man has seen me day in and day out for months with dirt all over my clothes, my hair in a mess, and no make-up on my face, and he still wants to marry me. How about I stop killing myself by obsessing over appearance and just let myself be?'

So now I get to sleep in an extra ten minutes every morning and the money I would have spent on lip-gloss or foundation now gets spent on lovely evenings out with my husband.

Sometimes I wonder if I should go back...but in all honesty, after I'm done looking at my reflection in the morning, I'm too preoccupied with living life to worry about what I look like to other people.

I wish it were more complicated than that. I wish it was because of some higher purpose or moral reason or in support of a cause. But it's just a simple, selfish reason (like everything else in my life). I just don't care enough anymore.

15 April 2010

workstudy Jobs Are Not available in The summer...

Every year, around this time of year, I start thinking to myself, "Why not get a real job? Something part time, something that would work around your class schedule, and then you wouldn't have to go through this agony every summer." So I start looking and I get interviews and I realize that...

there are a lot of advantages to working on campus that I'm not willing to give up.

But I need something to get me through the summer.

What I want is to work in an office-type setting, data entry or phones or something, and I want at least $9.00/hour and I want to not have to deal with people and I want to be able to up and leave at the end of August.

What? Asking too much?

Okay, okay. I'll settle for $8.50.

Actually, I ran across a really perfect job description today. Something about office job (perfect), self-motivated (my middle name), very little management (sweet), answering phones and entering customer's info into a database (that's what I'm talking about), must be willing to work alone (my favorite way to work), temporary job that will end in August (again, perfect).
It's like my name was printed all over it.

They have no idea my name was printed all over it. I tried to tell them, but I think I just came across as crazy. They won't call me back. They'll give my job to some blond bimbo who has never heard of a 10-key. *hangs head in sadness*

14 April 2010

pretend It's tuesday

I went online to register for Fall semester on Wednesday. I was stoked. I have 80+ credits (and yet nowhere near graduating...maybe i'm doing something wrong?) so I got to be one of the first to register. Practically guaranteed to get the classes I want.

And then the hiccup.

Two of the classes I want/need had a twenty minute overlap. Because of this, I wasn't able to register for the second class; the computer kept telling me there was an error. So I called my adviser, she couldn't do anything. I went to see the department chair, he couldn't do anything.

He did, however, let me know that I was not the only student struggling with this problem. Apparently a lot of students had come to him with the same issue. Someone messed up the scheduling and we were all going to have to suffer for it. He told me to wait a few days and check back.

Thursday comes. Now people with 70+ credits can register. Still no schedule change.

Friday comes. Now everyone can register. Still no schedule change.

At this point I was feeling a little panicked, because even if they fixed the schedule, I'd need to try to register before everyone else clamoring for this class. (stupid freshmen, get out of my way!)

A friend of mine called Friday night to let me know the schedule had been changed and asked me to register for her since she wouldn't be home until late that night. Sweet! Day of deliverance is come!
I hopped online, I got her registered. No problems.
I logged onto my account. Ready to register...and then something went wrong.

In my foolish haste, I accidentally dropped the class that I had already been registered for. I re-registered in less than a minute, but I found myself on the dreaded wait-list.
Minor set-back, right?
Because I was on a wait list, I couldn't register for the second class (they're co-requisite classes, see?) and so, far from being all squared away, I was even worse off than before!

I was in a tense, sweaty panic the rest of Friday night. I sent a desperate email to my adviser on Saturday. I was anxious and restless all of Sunday. FINALLY Monday came and I rushed into my adviser's office first thing. Surely she would sympathize with my plight and pull some of her magical adviser strings to get me out of this mess!

As predicted, she sympathized with my plight. Unfortunately for me, I significantly over-estimated the influence of her "magical adviser strings." I pictured advisers as being puppet masters of the registration computer program that had me so mercilessly grid-locked. Boy, was I off. She's given a few privileges, no doubt, but she couldn't solve my problem. Apparently the computer program is the one pulling the strings here (TRON) and it watches me dance and squirm.

I had to go back to the department chair. With his consent, my adviser could squeeze me into a crack, but there was still the issue of that "wait list." Now my hope rested with the department chair. Surely he would sympathize with my plight! Surely he would pull some magical strings, assuming there were magical strings to pull, and help me out of my mess.

He was out of the office for the day.


So the rest of Monday I was a mess. Nervous and worried and rocking myself in dark corners of the office...it was terrible. This morning, Tuesday, I rushed to his office as soon as I could. Not surprisingly, there was a line (gigantic eye-roll) and I had to wait 40 minutes to ask my two minute question. But it was worth it!

I told him the issue and with one swoop of his hand (swoop) it was taken care of. He didn't pull strings, he didn't need to, he just acted as if they weren't even there. "I'll sign you in. Whatever it takes. You're in the class, don't even worry."

*insert choirs of angels singing and rays of sunlight bursting through dark clouds*

So now I'm set for the Fall. I'm taking Drawing III, Interactive Design, AVC Lectures, Drawing for Illustration and Illustrative Media and Techniques I. And three of those will be with my very good friend, Lee. I'm so excited.
It seems like a lot, but I think I can handle it. I'm pumped. Bring it on.

Small plug for Lee: she is an amazing writer as well as an exceptional painter. She's been published at least twice (that I know of) in the University's Journals and recently won first place for one of her peices. I highly recommend you visit her blog, http://thelocustmaster.blogspot.com/, to read her work. Start at Part 1 and move up. I love her stuff, it's magical and dark and delicious (like chocolate). Feel free to leave tips or advice when you're there; she's trying to improve the story by letting others read it and give her feedback.
Tell her I sent you. (unless it's not your cup of tea or you're mean to her, then please don't mention my name at all) Enjoy.

09 April 2010

just go Do homework Or Something

I'm frustrated with my incompetent co-workers.
It's just us work-study students in the office right now. Yay for Friday afternoons. I'm "covering the front desk" (except it's friday afternoon, half an hour before quittin' time, there's really no reason for me to be here) and Blockhead is watching a movie on the other computer and our other co-worker...wow, what should I call him? ...'Other Co-Worker', is sitting on a chair doing nothing.

Dude, if you're going to sit doing nothing, why are you in the office? Go out on a couch and take a nap or go to the lab and finish your project. Why are you here? And Blockhead, watching a movie on the office computer in an office he doesn't even work in anymore...what part of that makes sense?? I want them both to leave.

Other Co-Worker keeps teasing me by taking away my dinner (still not sure why that's funny) and Blockhead shouldn't even be here and I want to leave the office so I can finish my homework downstairs and then go home to my wonderful husband except I need to pick up milk first and...and...and you know what? It's just the tail end of a long semester. I'm irritable and tired and this month needs to be over already.

08 April 2010

My titles never Match my Posts

We may be coming up on our final Blockhead entries. Sad for you (maybe), but I couldn't be happier about it. My life will be Blockhead-free as soon as the semester is over and for all of summer after that.

I might be rid of him even sooner than the start of summer. Let me tell you why:

We're both workstudy students (that's not the reason why...keep reading). That means we're awarded a certain amount of money at the beginning of the semester that we're allowed to work for (it sounds fishy to me, too, but it's a job so i don't complain). The amount you're given will determine how many hours you get to work per week and at what pay rate. 

With me so far?

I figured out with my supervisor that if I work exactly 20 hours a week, every week of the semester, I earn every last cent of my award without going over.
 *deep scary voice*  
They don't like it when you go over your hours.
*normal voice again*
 So I don't go over my hours.

Blockhead does it All. The. Time. He's notorious for it. I'm not sure what part of the process he doesn't understand. And wouldn't you know it, he's gone over his hours already this semester, so since he's out of money, he no longer works here.


He still comes by the office every day. He checks the paper in the copier and checks the mail (even though that's my job and it's always done before he gets here). He also likes to use the computer to finish his research papers.
Blockhead, there are computer labs all over campus that are meant specifically for students to use for homework. THE OFFICE COMPUTER IS NOT ONE OF THEM.

I don't feel bad using the office computer to do homework while I'm here because I use it after all my work is done and during my shift. I have to be in front of this computer between certain hours of the day anyway, I might as well be getting something done. Outside of those hours, I use the public computers.

Not really sure why Blockhead has to do it differently.

Maybe he doesn't  know there are four, separate, large computer labs on campus. Maybe he's avoiding a stalker who hangs out around the student computers. Maybe he's afraid of large public places.

Or maybe he's just a blockhead.

06 April 2010

have My Efforts come To naught?

So, I'm realizing that I write a lot about Blockhead and my personal struggles with him. I thought I'd make it easier by linking all these Blockhead posts together with that snazzy, and yet unused feature, the "Labels."

So I went through and found all the posts I could remember writing about Blockhead and tied them under the label "The Blockhead Chronicles" (maybe it's dumb, maybe it's clever, i don't really know, it's just the first thing that came into my head...don't judge)

And now when I go to edit my posts, I can see a lovely green label on all the posts that relate my woes concerning that infamous co-worker and the awkward situations that ensue from my interactions with him.

I'm not really seeing how it benefits the rest of you, though.

Maybe I'm just blind, but does it show what label is on a post anywhere on the blog, where you can see it? Did all that work ("all that work" i'm such a liar, it took me less than ten minutes) serve any purpose to anyone reading this?

So look out for labels, supposedly they're helpful.  And I'll keep working on how to make the Blockhead Chronicles more accessible, cuz I know you love reading them almost as much as I love writing them.

02 April 2010

head-To-Desk *Thud*

Blockhead tried to strike up a conversation with me today. I was busy working on the computer and getting materials out of my backpack so I could study. (not really sure why he thought that would be a good opening for a conversation. then again, a lot of things are lost on blockhead, so i really shouldn't wonder at it) He was leaning against the counter, eating his lunch. Not working, not even on the clock, just "hanging out" in the office (which we will talk about in another post).

He said to me, "So tell me," (that is his favorite phrase and he uses it to open any and all conversations) "you ever goin' to get a pet for your place?"

I didn't answer right away because the familiarity of the question and its wording startled me.
To my recollection, I've never talked to Blockhead about pets or my desire to/not to get one or the details of how management would charge me an extra $50 a month to keep a pet in the apartment. Where did this question come from?
Not only that, but "your place"?? Blockhead, you've never seen my place, we've never talked about my place, you can't really use that phrase: "your place." I think something more formal would have been called for, like "your apartment" or "your current residence" or "that undisclosed location that you return to at night and leave from every morning" or better yet, we could just not even bring up anything remotely personal about either of us. Obviously, I'm trying to adhere to a tacit social rule here, applicable only to my culture, and it's unfair of me to expect Blockhead to catch on to its subtlety. So then I answered,

"Uhm...no. No, probably not."

"Oh...well, if you did, what kind would you get?"

This conversation has already gone on longer than it should have. Not only that, but it's leading in a direction that I'm all kinds of uncomfortable with.

"I don't know, Blockhead." Shrug. Look down at textbook on desk. Pointedly start reading. It worked. He left.

Okay, so maybe that was rude. Maybe I'm a jerk. Maybe.


Then later in the day, I was in the middle of a conversation with one of the teachers, when Blockhead walks in, stands between us (there was quite a distance, the teacher was in his office and i was at my desk, i don't think blockhead realized what he was doing), holds a newspaper up to block my view of Mr.Teacher and starts talking about the picture on the front page.

Jaws dropped. Several of us stared at each other, bewildered, not knowing what to do or say. Someone said lightly and jokingly, "I know, did you see that? He just stood in front of you and held up a paper in front of your face," hoping he would hear and get the hint. He didn't. Instead he stood there, pointing at this dumb picture, smiling at me and saying, "Look at this, isn't this cool?"
"It looks like the crest in the background is part of his hat. See that?"
"...pretty sure that was the point of the picture."
"Oh. It's still pretty cool, though."

So then I look away from him and talk over the wall, "Sorry Mr. Teacher, what was that? Something about 20 years down the road, or something?"
"Nevermind. Forget it."


I was actually enjoying that conversation and instead I had Blockhead pointing at a poor quality photo, thinking it was the greatest visual trick in the world.

I should have said, point-blank, "Blockhead, you interrupted Mr. Teacher. Let him finish first. Sorry Mr. Teacher, what were you saying?" Why didn't I? In the moment it seemed like it would be an awkward thing to do. Why?? That's what I would have done if it had been a small child, to teach the child how to be aware and considerate of other people. A grown man doing the same thing totally threw me off and kind of freaked me out. It shouldn't have. And now I feel dumb.

Well, next time it happens (and it will happen) I'll react better.

01 April 2010



There's nothing to write about and I have homework that I don't want to do but it keeps piling up and I'm just so tired I can't wait for April 29th because then it will all be over and I'll be able to rest I don't want to sit in this chair anymore I want to go to my sister's play with my husband but I have to stay here for another hour and keep reading these articles that I'm sick to death of reading!!

*pant pant*

Did I mention that I'm tired?

I'm tired, too.