Today, I was reminded that Linux really doesn't appreciate spaces in file names. Particularly in fonts that xfs is trying to play happily with. In my defense, I wasn't the one who had named them such; I've gotten myself well out of the Windows leniency habit over the last couple years. It serves me right for getting so many new ones in the past four days (I estimate I increased my font collection by nearly a hundred fonts since last Wednesday). Other than, I feel rather unenthused (disenthused, heh) about my day. I rolled ever closer to a super cool php version of the L5R reference (not that super cool, as I'm not building a nerdy mysql database backend), but considering that that accomplishment was undertaken as mitigation of the 7.5 hours straight I spent today working in the Commons... I'm not too sure I feel all that spiffy about it. Not that 7.5 hours is really a lot in the grand scheme of what a workday could be (though I think I should get some sort of props for doing it straight, with no breaks), but when it's 7.5 hours sitting at an empty computer lab's desk... Not so neat.
Bleh. That's about what I have to say tonight. Lonely, bored, and annoyed at the world.
Bizarre, bizarre night. Went out with Jim and Ian and Bryan... hit two bars, a pool hall, and a strip club, not in that order. I'd never been in a strip club before; it was definitely an interesting experience. Of course, getting propositioned in the bathroom by Jordan, who looked very much like a grown-up Shirley Stripper Temple, was far and away the best part.
I had a really strange, vivid dream last night. Jeff, Scott, snowboarding, nachos, Eric the TA, snow-golf tournament, cherries and pumpkins stacked on the roadside, John's house but not, and all remembered with the clarity usually reserved for things that I've actually seen.
I have said it before and I will say it again. Nothing makes me as happy as watching the Fat Boy Slim video "Weapon of Choice" starring... Christopher Walken. There's just something that uplifts my soul about that video.
You know, I would have SWORN UP AND DOWN that I wrote something the day before yesterday (I don't claim yesterday at all, I know I missed that one). But considering that I can't remember what it might even possibly have been, I may be incorrect. It really hit me for the first time today that I don't have homework, and that I won't for another three full months. That I can stay up late and program and play with Photoshop and watch TV and roll out of bed the next day around 10 and head into work without doing anything else.
Today, my allergies are killing me.
Down at the ranch today. Put out to a nice, three day long pasture.
Crying produces too much mucus.
Happiness : new wireless keyboard works like a dream... just like I've always wanted it to. I will admit that the primary reason I've wanted one is so that I can use it as a mp3 player remote from my bed... but hey, whatever.
I'm either sick, or having the most annoying PMS I've ever had. Slight sore throat a day ago, but mostly headaches, lethargy, crankiness... suck. I'm distinctly off my game, as it were. And of course, the knowledge thereof makes me even crankier.
Not much to report today. I went to work, scrubbed desks for 45 minutes and worked on various projects. I came home to Jim's and vegged on the couch until we got up and went to go get food. I did find out that Tibbles, of all people, is the man who has opened the new game store on Roosevelt. More power to him, even if I can never erase the image of him as a 13-year-old from my head. I went out for drinks with Jim and Cindy and Dan and one of Cindy's friends... nothing special. One of those days that are incredibly ho-hum.
Too... much... Age of Empires II... eyes... need to... blink... Man, I'm terribly badly suited for games like AoE (or WarCraft/StarCraft, any of those ilk). My brain can't handle all the little units running around, and tries too hard to keep everything in focus—resulting in severe eye strain and brain wonkiness.
Hrm. I didn't realize that I'd missed a day. Ooops. I'm tired tonight, so I won't add anything much to my nothing from yesterday.
I was going to write a particular something tonight... a particular something I have meant to write for a couple days now. Every single time, I forget when I sit down.
Today was fucking hot. 94 odd degrees fucking hot. Fucking hotter than Seattle's been in years. In fucking June. Fuck.
In other news, with the completion of my joke of a Sociology final (in and out—20 minutes), I officially completed my last requirements for my undergraduate education. Jen is free.
But it was still fucking hot today.
I am very very tired. Ed's ears get really wet at the tips when she sweats a lot. Either that or she dragged her ears in a puddle of sewage while running in the park at 1:30 am. My nose is too stuffed up to tell if she's stinking.
My network at home has gotten very very very very slow.
And may I mention that I really really really fucking hate being a good person. I fucking hate subsuming what I want so that other people will be happy or will be relieved of pain. I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT. My throat hurts from screaming and crying all the way back to Kirkland. I haven't cried like this since Jim broke up with me last year, and I'm hating myself for doing it all the while because there's no solid basis behind it. I'm fucking distraught as all hell, yes, but Ian didn't pick a time to have a personal crisis just to spite me, and I can't blame Jim for wanting to support his best friend, particularly when I was egging him on to do so. I can't even say that I really wanted him to come home with me—I would have felt terribly guilty. I just feel incredibly sorry for myself and angry at the world for how much time I put into a day that totally didn't go how I wanted it to, mashed together with every other alcohol-induced betrayal I've ever been subjected to gnawing at the edges of my sanity. I had hoped to never have an act of Jim's, unwitting and partially my own fault though it may have been, added to that list, and now that it has, I'm really fucking upset. And I have no one but myself to blame—I could have dragged him home before any of it began. But no, I could see that look in Ian's eyes, and I knew that morally, Jim was going to have to stay there tonight. I fucking hate morals. They get in the way of everything that I want. Because I don't want anything else, bluntly put, to be more important in Jim's life than me. I hate it more than I can say that Ian's above me on the list. But I know that's wrong, and it's that goddamn knowing that it's wrong that fucks with my poor little head. Because I know that it's right for Jim to be home tonight... and even that moral knowledge doesn't keep me from screaming my throat raw and and driving way too fast through my tears. And I don't want to go to bed, because I'm too upset, but every moment that I spend awake is just more crying. Poor Ed gave up on me twenty minutes ago. It's pretty fucking bad when even that dog gives up and walks away.
The sunny, hazy days where the sky is without a cloud yet Mt. Rainer cannot be seen... those are the best.
I do so love Law & Order. It's the television equivalent of comfort food—rarely outstanding, but always satisfying... like mashed potatoes.
Much later... I saw Amelie. I liked it, but it depressed me; I think I've been reflecting too much on the lack of romance in my life lately to not be jealous.
Today, the Japanese department recognized my graduation, my parents met my teachers, we went out for nummy Japanese food... but after it all, I'm just so exhausted (about 2 hours sleep last night) that I can't really say much about it. Even if I still have the Soc final next Thursday, it'll be easy and I've nothing else but that... I feel good.
It's 3:34 am and I'm not going to bed now. I'm in the throes of what is to be my last ever undergraduate stay-up-until-it's-light-out frantic get-paper/speech/etc-done thing. I wouldn't have predicted it, but knowing that it's the last one does make it better. Not that I don't think I'll ever do it in grad school the next couple years, of course. But this feels like something of a milestone. I didn't feel like working on the presentation anymore, so I've opted to have some ice cream to celebrate. And now I'm cold.
It's 3:45 am. I'm going to bed now.
In my affection for Food Network personalities, I am torn between Jamie Oliver, Alton Brown, and Graham Kerr. Of course, Kerr is about 60 years old now, so I'll strike him off the list... Jamie is much too cool for me, so off he goes... leaving me with, you wouldn't have guessed, really, the nerdy, adorable Alton. I'm quite disgustingly predictable.
I am morbidly preparing to be utterly screwed on my presentation for Friday. I'm woefully unprepared.
I decided to just not write anything on Saturday to catch things up to their proper places. I realized at about 10 pm how fucking screwed I am for my speech tomorrow. Joy.
I must have been ahead a day somewhere, because this SHOULD be the entry for the 30th of May. Drunk tonight... went on Ian's 21-run, and Jim decided that since I'd never had one, I should get one along with Ian. So that accounts for mispellings. Fucking hiccups... there's a Dicks' Deluxe waiting for me, so I stop now. Dancing at the Baltic was the best. Smelling like weed because everyone around was smoking was not.