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Ever notice when people paste their own picture all over their blog it's always black and white shots at an obtuse (usually high angle)? Hides the fact you're fat and ugly far better than conventional shooting.
Also most of these shots are self-taken to hide the fact whatever spawn owns the blog is crushingly alone.
Anyway, Journal of Fbrobey.
First, today's writer's block:

If you worked for a newspaper, which section of the paper would you like to write for, and why?

Definitely advice. Although 90% of my advice would be "fucking kill yourself."
Hope my paper has a killer insurance policy~

Geeky as this sounds I've been thinking a lot lately about trying to incorporate my enjoyment and love of writing with my interest in science, so I'd love to be a scientific correspondent reviewing journals and commenting on new discoveries...

Wouldn't you need some sort of qualifications to do that?
No I guess not, actually.

I'm home for Easter and by God is the break a welcome one. I say break, but I still have university work coming out of my ears, I'm just not currently having anything added to the pile meaning I actually feel like I'm accomplishing something unlike before.

Whatever.

I have actually completed my epic coursework list apart from the one piece of biochemistry coursework, which doesn't bear thinking about for now.

I SAID WHATEVER. SHUT UP.

So yesterday I was too drained to really explain what had happened, and I'll spare you all the details, basically though I text Jayne Wednesday night because I wanted her to know it wasn't her I had a problem with but didn't feel comfortable walking down with Milly.

Yes spare me the details because if you give me the details I might actually comprehend what's going on for once. It's not like the two sentences of exposition would make this essay in bullshit any shorter.

This turned into her telling me she didn't think me living there next year was a great idea either and I'm just sick of it. I ended up crying myself to sleep much later than I planned and had to be up early the next morning (yesterday). Miraculously I managed to get my arse out of bed in time, and stood outside with Gen and Amy while I waited for Aimee to appear. She didn't Milly and Jayne did and they both walked past me with looks on their faces as if I was a piece of unpleasant shit on their shoes.

Milly and Jayne with a y. What do they know?
Seriously what the fuck is going on?

Had a pretty awful day I have to admit, again following on with the "Milly" theme. Currently can't be assed to make an explaining post so shall leave that to tomorrow when I'll be posting anyway as in precisely 12 hours 10 minutes I will have in my sweaty little mitts the result of January's 5 exams... wish me luck! :/

Oh here's the anticipatory post in relation to the drivel I just copied.
So we have an introduction to the post that doesn't actually explain anything.

So last night I came to the conclusion I really can't bear the idea of four new freshers, especially as next year is my last and most important year, I'll have a dissertation to do as well as lectures and will need all the ease and peace and quiet I need. I thought Milly can't tell me what to do so I'm just going to move in, Jayne and Aimee want me there anyway. So I sent her this message:

Oh good, some exposition on this issue.
Want to bet it will explain precisely dick?

"Hiya milly, I'm sorry to bring this up again, I know you don't really want to live with me next year and trust me I've been trying to find new people to share with me next year to respect your wish. However, everyone already has plans and Aimee doesn't want to leave your flat, which I completely understandm however this left me with the rather awful prospect of living with 4 new freshers next year, I hope you can appreciate this isn't something I really want as I want to spend my last year with friends and I need peace and quiet with a dissertation to write. I'm sorry if this is going to upset you but I'm moving into the double room next year, I want to make the most of my degree, which I'm sure you know. You have my word it'll be like living with a ghost if you want, I can stay in my room to avoid tension, after all I don't want to cause trouble. Hope you understand and I'm sorry if this upsets you, I did try the alternative first xx"

So apparently she did something (or maybe not) and now her roommates are pissed so they want her to move out but she'd be living with freshmen so she doesn't really want to do that--
got it.
What'd she do, I wonder?

"You won't live with new house mates this year yet you made us live with new house mates last year... hmm yes fair... you have brought this situation on yourself and as they say make your bed and lie in it. To be honest I'm really not happy and frankly don't give a stuff where you live as long as it's not with me. You say you will be a ghost in this flat so why the hell not where you are currently if you are going to stay in your room it should make little difference to you. You say you want to live with your friends, yet to be honest only one of us in this flat even count you as one since xmas before last."

Burn I guess.
This all reeks of melodrama that's exciting for exactly three seconds and then I get bored and start to stare into the middle distance.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand there is no more exposition on this subject. Nothing ever says "here's what I did to make everyone hate me" which leads me to believe whatever it was is probably her fault.

Okay well I never really left my diet, though it's certainly not doing the good it was earlier this year so time for a kick start as I said a couple of days ago. My exercise class at home is run by a wonderful lady known as Pat, who is so helpful and supportive. I have a dress in my sights and I really want to look good in it and my sister is in the same conundrum. I'm currently UK dress size 16 and 12 stone 8 lbs (as of the wii fit this morning). By July next year I'm hoping to be down to a UK 12 (at a push but I'd love to do it) and as close to 10 stone as I can get.

Bri'ish.

So Pat suggested a diet known as the Dukan Diet it's a 4 phase diet developed by a French nutritionist. Take a look if you like but the four phases are essentially as follows:

1st phase: Attack phase - eating proteins only (lean meat, eggs, water, fat free dairy and tea/coffee and fat free fizzy drinks) this lasts for a week maximum

2nd phase: Vegetables are added (except for starchy ones such as beans, peas, sweetcorn and potatoes)

3rd phase: once target weight/size is achieved normal food is slowly added (e.g. bread potatoes etc) 2 days for every 1lb lost

4th phase: final stabilization, 1 pure protein day a week and a portion of oats everyday to keep cholesterol low.

In addition to this I have to do 30 minutes walking each day, which I'd happily do since it helps to destress me at uni. I also plan to try and keep up jogging (instead of walking some of the days) and also swimming once a week.

I have a revolutionary diet: take whatever you do eat and just eat half of it.

Why is it whenever something wrong is done to me it's my fault anyway?

Your fault for not predicting it and preventing it.
Takes two people to make a butthurt, you know.
Here's a post entitled "I'm 60% a virgin" and I'm having trouble with not only this statement but the math as well.
I'm sure it'll be disappointing but let's take a peek.

Stolen from Diane. Add up how many are unchecked and that’s your virginity percentage.

Oh it's a dumb meme thing.
Fuck it I am even more disappointed than I expected.
Here's an online quiz that confirms she's an attention whore (thanks internet, next thing I know you'll suggest you have to licking a stamp makes it sticky so you can stick it to shit)--
about 100000 memes--
Words I'm not reading--
Oh man this so bad I'm going to have to bust out a word I've never even used before and had to make sure actually existed before I wrote it.
This is really stultifying.
I've never been so enthusiastic to write an update only to have all the will sapped from me. I don't think you could have stripped my zeal for life out faster if you tazed me right in the coconut.

It's funny how a single thought can strike you and turn your perspective of that particular day completely. Manipulate a good day into a bad day, taint your heart with a melancholy undertone.

It really is.
What?

I didn't think my birthday would ever be the trigger for such a mood, yet here I sit, typing out yet another miserable journal entry because I don't seem to know how to do anything but whine about my life lately.

LIVEJOURNAL EXPLORES NEW GROUND.

I have my health, my mind and my whole future to look forward to.

To Zeus, All-Father:
I have found the perfect target for your shenanigans.
Love,
Tim.

So what's got me bluer than Saturn this time? In 15 days I will be celebrating my 20th birthday, which while exciting put things into a wild perspective for me.

Ah yes the big 20th birthday.
Yes.

I'll be halfway to 40, a third of the way to 60 and a quarter of the way to 80, by which time I'll probably be the lonely old lady pictured above, gazing out at the spattering rain wondering where my life went, how my glasses got so thick, my memory got so bad and my jowls so saggy.

The entire sum of your life adds up to one quarter of 80 years. Every single moment has added up to not even a quarter of a century.
Seriously how long do you want to live?
Imagine if life stretched on into infinity-- what would be the point in doing anything? The fact you have limited time to do shit is kind of your motivator.

Musing over big matters like who whatever little money I may have collected over the years will go to. Will I have a husband? Kids? Grandkids? If the past 20 years is anything to go by I'm supposing no.

Well to be fair you could really only have gotten married in the past two years.

Maybe I'll even think back to this moment and wonder what on Earth I ever had to whine about in comparison to the pains of crumbling bones, the frustration of stairs and the pang of loneliness when I realise it's my 80th birthday and not a single card has dropped on my doormat to tell me this, because no one remembers the bubbly young woman I once was.

Now that is sobering.
I actually had a similar thought while I was teaching at my shitty high school. "What if I look back on this and think it's nothing?"
So I've now vowed to make that the darkest chapter in my life.
So instead of whining like you I did the manly, Space Marine thing and took a vow.

Only the frail old lady with the mottled hands and mop of white curls occasionally seen wandering with her shopping trolley to Tesco every Wednesday just for a bit of company and a loaf of bread.

In fact I one day aspire to be old enough to use that as the excuse for how crotchety I am.

Maybe that little girl didn't realise that you should be careful what you wish for. That the promise she made to herself was a foolish one, that 15 years on she'd be sat typing this and regretting every carefree syllable of nonsense she would let escape her mouth without any comprehension of how hideous being old and alone must be.

YOU'RE 20.

She didn't really comprehend what being a spinster entailed. Did she realise the flow of hormones that came with puberty would change her perspective? How could she foresee the anguish of being a teenager watching her friends grow up, caged in an aging body, forced to face facts, scared and helpless.

I think there's a Warhammer quote for this.
I know that always cheers me up immensely.
Let's see. Theme: doubt, fear or perseverance?
We have:
Perseverance and silence are the highest virtues.
Fear is the Mind Killer.
The Mighty have no room for doubt.

The sparkling intuition that children have that makes them think nothing bad will ever happen to them as long as mummy and daddy are around being torn away in a messy operation that left many scars only seen from the inside.

I can't remember the moment they became separate. It happened in a whirlwind of spots, flab, taunting and embarrassment. Braces and glasses, disgust for my curls, attempting to eradicate them with brushing and gel.

Or how about this one?
The present changes the past from moment to moment. Only pray for the future to vindicate your action.

The awkward nerd trying to fit in with her peers, praying personality really does count for more than a pretty face and slim frame.

Only the insane prosper.

The realisation that it didn't, that my prettier friends were receiving valentines day cards and being asked on dates. The confusion when girls I would deem worse looking than myself also seemed to understand the art or dating. Now I have to dig deep to find the skipping carefree girl, peel through the layers of inner pensioner that seem to line my body, the part of me that worries, the cleaner, the tea-drinker to find the scared little girl shivering and blinking through tear filled blue eyes.

Cease purpose and die.
There is not a problem in your life that cannot be solved by a 5-15 word sentence from a Warhammer rulebook.
Anyway this entry has gone on long enough and suddenly I feel like doing something else that isn't a bunch of dumb melodramatic bullshit.

Imperator Gratias

Oh what's this?
Furries, etc.
Also note the first post about filters.
I do love them filters, man. Especially since they share three common themes:
1. "I've set up a series of filters to ensure relevant postings." Implying, what, anything about your life is interesting or relevant?
2. "If you want to be part of my super secret fan club, you have to ask and I'll consider you on a case by case basis." This is probably my favorite because I cannot imagine anyone seriously doing this.
3. "If you don't do this you'll be missing out on some of my better postings" and yet most people manage to post once a week to once a day without the filter about such subjects as their illegitimate lovechild or the multiple affairs they've had so I'm left with the perplexing idea of what's behind the filter?

One thing to note...I have my public posts, then a filter for my "friends only" posts. Those on my "friends" filter get everything from meme's to silly comments to serious, thoughtful posts. You need to ask me, to be added to that filter. I will decide on a case by case basis.

WOW, EVERYTHING FROM SILLY COMMENTS TO MEMES! THIS TRULY IS THE PINNACLE OF READING.

If you had to relocate to another city, what would you miss most about the place you're leaving behind.

Wow I can't help but notice you asked a question with a period. Today's WB:

If you had to relocate to another city, what would you miss most about the place you're leaving behind.

And her answer:

I don't have to wonder, since I did just this.

Having been in my new town about a week now, homesickness is hitting me pretty hard. While I miss the places I would go to eat and the sights I would see, what I miss the most right now is my close circle of friends. I tried to hang out with the local fandom group, but that's been though.

Fandom.
Ohhhh boy.
I get the feeling I'm in for it now.

On the last Sunday of May, Locke took me to the top of Lookout Mountain in Colorado. There, with a herd of deer standing near and watching us, he got down on one knee and gave me a ring. He asked me that special question.

....with tears streaming from my eyes, I squeaked out a "Yes."

Furries are allowed to get married and reproduce.
Truly there is no justice in the world.

I still try to have a social life, despite the obstacles that keep arising. The one local weekly furmeet Locke and I go to got moved from Saturday to Thursday night. "All right", I thought "We can actually go more often now."...Wrong! The same week of the day switch, my work decides that they need me every Thursday night. This makes it very difficult to attend the meet.

Furmeet.
So-- I guess that's where annoying douches go to dress like mascots and FUCK EACH OTHER IN THE ASSES?

We were able to sneak down to Animeland Wasabi for a bit last Saturday night. We meet up with Laken, Blue, and Salem. Laken wore her newer suit "Axelle" and I wore

You're going to something called "Animeland Wasabi" dressed as a wolf.
What has happened in your life where that occurs to you as something you can actually do and it seems like a good idea?
My favorite author, Brian Jacques, has left this world. While my heart mourns, a familiar passage from a story of his comes to my mind.
Poor Brian Jacques. He had a cool story about a sentient mouse who becomes a knight and look what furries did to it.

Oh, he used Wikipedia. That a really reliable source for information. (italics denote sarcasm)
Remember, kiddies, Wikipedia is a good place to START. Take the time to follow the links and find other sources. So say my English and Speech teachers.

Actually it is a good source of information, usually. Just read the Dante's Inferno entry. It's accurate, short, filled with primary sources-- were this any other source it would be a great thing to use but NO WIKIPEDIA IS AUTOMATICALLY SHIT.
Of course I suppose that relies on a certain level of mastery of a subject so you can identify when Wikipedia is off its own ass so who the fuck knows.

What animal best represents your inner spirit? If you had to wake up as an animal, which one would you choose, and why? Are your two answers the same? Why or why not?

Right now I am so fucking pissed I accidentally sold 30 toad skins in FFXIV I'm sure my spirit resembles a giant fire breathing golden lion or some shit.
WHAT THE FUUUUCK WHY DIDN'T I PAY MORE ATTENTION?
FUUUCK I AM SO ANGRY RIGHT NOW AND IT WON'T LET UP.

Back around my birthday, my brother got me a couple random PS2 titles, Mojo! and "Sega Genesis Collection". Mojo is odd, but a fair time killer. I've only played a couple titles on the Collection, mainly Comix Zone and Ecco the Dolphin. All the titles on the Collection are just retro kick-backs. Nothing too deep or involved there.

>just retro kick-backs
>nothing too involved
>Phantasy Star 2 is part of this collection
Are you fucking kidding me?
EH JUST A QUAINT RETRO KICK BACK NOTHING LIKE ROCK BAND FUCKING II WHICH I GO ON AND ON ABOUT.

I'm still spending way too much time on Rock Band 2.

And you know what's really grinding my shit now? Every six words is a hyperlink to Google that searches whatever she's talking about so now I have to copy every goddamn sentence into wordpad because if I don't it'll fuck my entire formatting up.
I'm glad she's not a Phantasy Star fan actually because then she'd be going on and on about the characters and every word would be a goddamn link to Google.
YOU KNOW RUDOLPH STEINER IS NAMED AFTER A SOCIOLOGIST WHO FOUNDED A SCHOOL.

Speaking of my kitsune self, I was "caught" tonight. I went in for a restraint / recovery class, as part of my training. I happened to be wearing my RMFC shirt from 2007. As I was walking out after class, Carin (the instructor) saw the back of my shirt.

Caught.
Because you were wearing a furry shirt.
That'd be like wearing a shirt that says "I love cocks in my ass and face" and being amazed when people ask if you're gay.

"You were at the fur con?" she asked. I confirmed that I was, for that year. It happened to be the year that RMRP was the charity for the con. We chatted a bit about the con. Then she straight asked, "So, are you a furry?" I said yes. She said, "That's neat."

"Keep your creepy shit away from me, freak."
CREATING A HOSTILE WORK ENVIRONMENT, ONE OF THE MANY SERVICES I CAN RENDER.

So, instead of the con, we putzed around the den, guitar hero-ing and other activities. *wink*

Gross.
Wow this blog is really boring.
Anyway I think I've put off ending this entry for long enough.

Oh it's 3 in the morning.

Well I had planned on writing an entry but FFXIV decided to be a total bitch and I ended up spending four hours soloing a quest instead of asking for help.
I did it though, by God. I swore that zombie would stay dead and stay dead he did.
Totally worth the velveteen cowl I got.
Definitely couldn't make that myself.
Hey wait--
Oh well another quest down.

If you were given the opportunity to spend two weeks in any country in the world free of charge, which country would you choose, and why?

I actually spent a lot of time debating about what the most common answer would be for this one.
Japan is the most obvious choice but after careful consideration I actually chose England for its hipster factor and I'm proud to say careful scrutiny paid off because England is by far the most common answer.
Maybe it's just the time I checked but I didn't see Japan once. But bint has this to say:

I'm not sure this is even a question.

What, is it confusing?
I'd visit either Japan or Greece myself. I am a huge weeaboo faggot but Greece does contain the Home of the Gods.

I had typed up a lovely and angst-ridden couple of paragraphs about London and the United Kingdom and how I miss them (inspired by a re-watch of Series Four of Doctor Who, which just culminated with "Journey's End," which will ALWAYS make me sob like a frightened child separated from her mum), but then LJ ate those, so I'll take it as a sign to stop my whinging, be pleased -- in fact, delighted -- with the world that spreads itself out before me, and shove all the "far away can bite me" angst back into that little tiny corner of my brain (or is it heart?) that it has colonized and will not return.

(But seriously. I should never watch "Journey's End." Ever.)

So--
what?

Getting into the writing mood sometimes requires strange things from me. Partly it requires stormy, chilly, or otherwise overcast days (I am rubbish at writing when it is sunny, or warm); generally it also requires a particular beverage (usually a mug of tea, although iced coffee can be substituted if it is one of those strange days which is warm and/or sunny and on which I have still found myself capable of writing).

I already told you my secret.
It's a commonly documented fact that all successful writers considered themselves visited by spirits or muses or whatever and that's what powered their writing.
Even the typically deeply Christian John Milton claimed this shit.
Naturally they're all batshit, but I think there's something to this frame of thinking. You have to write when you are closest to death, and you are no closer to death than right before you sleep.
Because sleep is the brother of death, see?
Ancient Greeks had this shit figured out.

If it weren't for my pocketbook (and the fact that I have yet to find a cafe in America that can brew me a decent cup of tea), I would write solely in cafes; as it is, I resort to them and their iced coffees more frequently in the summer months. Winter writing can, if necessary, be done at home (though of course it can also be done in the company of crazed Wrimos at the local cafe, preferably with Viking helmets and too much caffeine).

What the fuck is even happening at this point?

And then there are days like today, where writing somehow demands that I get dressed up for it. I'm not even leaving the house, but I've got mostly new clothes on, I've done up my hair (more or less), I know which shoes go with the outfit should I decide to wear them.

I'm fighting the effects of sleeping pills at this point.

Partly this is because I cannot think in pajamas.

Aren't you from England? Don't they spell that word "Pyjamas"?
Whatever.

Partly it is because creating some kind of routine spectacle around the writing process somehow makes me more likely to knuckle down and write.

Did you know Tendai Mountain monks become one with the cosmos after several years of virtually nonstop running and then they starve themselves for a week?
A ton of monks die before this right is completed but supposedly if you can finish it the effect will be so immense you'll immediately become enlightened.

This is probably very silly, and I should try to wean myself off of it -- and yet, for what it is, it works remarkably well.

Oh yeah I'm sure what you produce is just grand.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go put on some lace-up brown leather boots and start writing.

I'm pretty sure most successful authors don't even get dressed most days.

Currently quite frustrated that conclusion will not just up and write itself. Finding conclusion very inconsiderate in this way. Am contemplating pretending that conclusion does not matter, but do not think this would be terribly effective. Am also

Am also denying the use of first person pronouns.

contemplating a conclusion that involves the assertion of every Austen reader's desire to hang out with Austen and be awesome. Professor has encouraged this conclusion strategy, though in more scholarly terms. Have possibly consumed too much caffeine to think straight because oh that's right English Breakfast tea has caffeine and so does coffee and maybe lunch would be a good idea around now.

(Do not pet the thesis-writer. May bite.)

I hate everyone.

God, on days like these, Wheeler is my safe place. When I'm on the fourth floor, flitting from office to office and having deep and meaningful conversations with professors and fellow students about the nature of life as seen through literature,

I'd like to think our conversation would last all of five seconds.
Actually I have perfected the art of not giving a fuck to such a degree I actually project a palpable aura that keeps people like this away.
Yes but it's not for the temporal rewards I seek enlightenment.

all of the rest of it just seems to go away, and I just stop worrying and start belonging. I'm tense and nervous and worried a lot more than I should be right now, what with so many things proverbially up in the air, but when I'm talking to people about English (or when I'm in Professor Puckett's lectures) I feel like the world makes sense for once.

So meanwhile Black Library (the publisher of fine Warhammer books) is looking for new authors. I expect to be accepted into this order as soon as my entry is finished.

I feel like this, at least, is something I understand, and perhaps more importantly, something of which I am a (possibly even integral) part.

It's a great story I'm cooking up, too. Truly it will fit alongside Legion or Draco.

Well, I'm back for my final semester at Berkeley (and still freaking out a little about that fact). Within a little more than three months, I'll have written my 40-60 pg. honors thesis, completed my last classes as an undergraduate, and possibly put an end to my career as a student at Berkeley (there's a small chance I could come back for grad school, but that's rather doubtful).

Oh no, 40-60 pages?
Oh but it's double spaced so it's really like 20-30.
And after you fuck around with the margins it's really like 25.
And after you dick around with the character spacing it's more like 23.

Because they're almost over. And I hate them. And I want to die, and I'm never reading Jane Eyre again. (At least not for two years, and maybe not until I decide to use it as the set text for the coda to my PhD dissertation, which, yes, is taking shape in my mind at the moment and does need to end with a half-chapter on Jane Eyre in its current nebulous form. Yes, this means I am already thinking about the topic of my PhD dissertation/first published academic work. I'm a dork like that.)

I'm currently perfecting a new technique of not giving a fuck. The harder they douche the less I give a fuck. It's the perfect guard.

ANYWAY, my actual point in this entry is to tell you about a really nifty online writing tool that someone else recommended to me and that I like thoroughly. It's called 750words.com and it pretty much is what it sounds like: a site where you can go to write 750 words each day, every day. What they're about is totally up to you, but you're encouraged to write them on a daily basis.

This is a bad idea for a reason I can't even guess currently.

What you write is itself entirely private, although the site does have some cool features that analyze what you write in an attempt to determine your mood, your prevailing concerns, etc. and you can decide to share that information with the public if you like. I really rarely recommend techy stuff, or writerly stuff, but I really like this.

There it is.
It's like I'm being enlightened through douchey blogs. I knew it was a bad idea before I knew why.

Mostly, I like it because I can write 750 words of more-or-less stream-of-consciousness venting in 10 minutes, and doing this every day for the past 10 days has been something to look forward to.

Know who cares about stream of consciousness?
No one in their right goddamn mind.

Also, I just really like the site design. Very simple writing interface, which I am currently in love with (instead of your words working down the page, the page scrolls up as you write...like a typewriter!),

That sounds really annoying, actually.

sleek design overall, and -- because no way would we be doing this without rewards of some kind -- there are BADGES! You get new badges depending upon how many days in a row you've managed to write,

Surely your honors do not extend as far or shine as brightly as this.
I'm not sure that link will work, actually. You might have to be logged in to my FFXIV account to see it.
Oh well, can't be assed to figure it out.
This entire paragraph might not make much sense to anyone but me.

Let's review my schedule for the next few days:

12AM tonight: Jane Eyre paper due. I've written maybe 2/3 of it, and have yet to complete an entire first draft.

>drafts
O ye plebeians.

What is the best book you've read this year, and why?

The Odyssey because not a year goes by I don't read it.

As usual, this is a question that demands multiple answers, because it's me we're talking about, and I rarely read one good book per year.

And Dante's Inferno.
Again, not a year passes.

Which fictional world would you choose to visit, and why?

The grim dark far future of the year 40,000, naturally.

It depends if by "world" you mean a particular planet, or a particular universe. If I'm choosing between different planets/planet-like spaces/planar domains and dimensions, the first one that comes to mind is Narnia --

Oh God shut up.

My life is crazy, but even people like me who deliberately seek out insanity deserve some peace and serenity, even if it only happens after 10pm. As such, I'm going to go make myself tea, get a few cookies, then shut myself in.

You don't know the beginning of insanity, graduate student.
Try teaching in a ghetto high school for 4 months and maintain any vestige of sanity.
TRULY I HAVE A WILL AS UNBENDING AS IRON.

my room in my comfy sweatpants and my big bulky thermal and socks my grandma knit me so that I can watch the new episodes of Bones and Big Bang Theory in blissful solitude.

OF IRON FOR IN THAT FOUR MONTHS THERE WAS NO ESCAPING THE DEMONS IN MY OWN MIND.
This blog seems really douchey I wish I could stay awake longer to contend with it further or if I could focus on her words at all.
Instead I'm just rambling about totally irrelevant shit.
So like I normally do I guess but I feel like this deserves a deeper analysis.
MONDAY, THEN.