Thoughts from the past week

I envy my Divacup's sense of timing. It waits for me to leave the bathroom, walk down the hall, lie down, find my place in my book, and get about a page into it, and then it abruptly snaps open. I almost feel sorry for it - all that effort, and there's never anyone around to see the sudden look of horrified discomfort on my face.

I cannot take any more obnoxious, creepy people hitting on me. I really, really cannot. So if that obnoxious, creepy guy in my history class even looks at me again, I'm going to break his pointy little nose. This is all the warning he's getting. (And this is a reminder to myself - buy a fake wedding ring before leaving for England.)

Also, the people in my ceramics class need to leave me the hell alone. I have this one guy who's attached himself to me like a little floppy-haired emo leech and he asks me what he should do at every. stage. of. his. damn. projects. "What should I do?" "What color glaze should I use?" "Should I dip, or pour?" "Will my engobing show through the glaze?" Dude, you need to work on your ability to read body language, okay? And speaking through gritted teeth is not normally a sign of encouragement in my particular corner of reality. I don't know about yours.

Having icepicks shoved under my fingernails might be more excruciating than watching A Bit of Fry & Laurie with my mother, but at this point I'm really not sure.

I'd also like to add that my mother is being less than helpful about this whole England thing. This is an actual conversation I had with her on Saturday:

Mom: "I found the power adaptors for England! Shall I put them in your room for you?"
Me: "NO."

I mean, okay, yes, it was technically helpful, but I'd like to keep the freaking out to a minimum until at least September, and starting to pack things for me is less than helpful in that respect.

My parents agreed to take me to San Diego with them. I asked them to back in January. Then this grad school thing happened. Now, I'm not so sure I want to go, because apparently I'd rather sit at home by myself and have conniptions.

Also, today, immersed in my warm pink cloud of I Don't Give a Flying Fuck About Community College Anymore, I slept from 2 AM to 5 AM, and then wrote my ceramics paper two hours before it was due. Then I left class two hours early and decided it would be a great idea to lie down and read Barchester Towers. I lasted about two minutes and woke up four hours later with the spine printed down the side of my face. Trollope is not a good way to stay awake.