I’ve felt like I’ve lost control of my life. I mean, things are great in most of it. There’s 10% where stuff is okay, but if I could switch it the 10% would be great and the “most of it” okay.
What I am trying to say is whatever I try to do, work really hard on, put the effort and time in, doesn’t really work out. Other stuff that I half-care about, do not put much effort into, and do not harbor any long-term feelings about works out pretty well.
Yarrrgh to life.
dancing in circles
squared in front of the tv with tivo
worrying about the citric acid cycle
and of course
hooray for electrons
i am not sure if i have to pee
or if i have to sleep
do I want to work tomorrow
or do I want to procrastinate further
i love you spring break
you are amazing
i am the chief of spring break
therefore you can go ahead and touch me
attempt to absorb a little amazing
The best pain is the soreness two days after your trip to the gym.
If you walk home in the early hours of the morning in College Park, Maryland, you shan’t see squirrels, but you’ll see rabbits. The experimental goal is to catch one and determine if it morphs into a squirrel at 7:00 AM when people begin to wake up for their classes, and if it does, characterize the mechanism bitches.
I think about changing my major everyday, that’s been a constant in my life. This semester, I have one of those classes that enhances the strength of these thoughts to straight-up fantasizing about being an intern on Capitol Hill. But I convince myself that I should not do the things that I love, and don’t fret, because then my unbiased perspective will twist. If my homework is only interesting because it expands my mind and is something I have to work hard to understand, so be it. Let the arty, undeniably human things in life be my vice.
Happy belated Pi day.
Since it’s taking me like 12 minutes to make a decision about what to take to class with me today, I’m beginning to think that pulling an all-nighter for my chemistry exam this morning was not the greatest decision ever made.
Yea to alcohol.
Yea to education.
Nay to the ejection of stomach contents.
Nay to being corrected by 11 year olds.
Next item for Jonathanlysis:
I have been considering the purchase of an iPod. Who the fuck doesn’t have one you ask? I have been putting this purchase off for various reasons, and the latest one that seems to be working for me is that I want I do not want to go deaf. However, the male urge to buy an expensive gadget is all too overwhelming and I keep dreaming about much better I’ll be able to write the mechanisms of various enzymes and their substrates.
Yea to an iPod.
The only reason that I would want to watch the Oscars would be to be able to answer Jeopardy! questions. I get a little sick to my stomach watching these gorgeous people thingies.
Nay to the Oscars. But I do love you Nicole Kidman, no matter how tall you are.
I’m currently hiding from Microsoft Word and Microsoft Excel 2004, pleaaase don’t tell them where I am.
I’ve determined that I average about 1.6 worst days ever per semester. I mean they’re inevitable that shit just happens. Most of the time these worst days are directly related to school, usually in some strange way my feelings get hurt. Even though they’re inevitable, they’re still unpredictable. A worst day ever ends up with my begging myself to let me to go to sleep while blinking away tears, trying to forget the world, hoping I don’t wake up. If we’re here for 13 weeks (91 days) each semester, 1.6 worst days ever isn’t that bad. Realmente I’d say that’s well above average. I’m knocking on wood throughout this entire post. Since 1.6 is pretty damn infrequent I can still drag myself out to every class. Every 8 AM, every mediocre test score. As long as academics are good, and the humans that I care about are alive, life is good, since I do not have drama with objects living or otherwise outside of my body. It’s all internal. It’s so easy to maintain internal drama.
At a level above worst days ever, I’d say I have maybe 8-10 bad days a semester. My definition of a bad day isn’t really complete yet, but it goes something like my bad luck is eternal sorrow-woe is me-how could I have done that-don’t talk to me I’ll stab you. Can’t really articulate it very well. Sometimes they’re manifested by malicious attempts of others to initiate Prolificus-drama, which is illegal, so that’s pretty rare in itself. But they seem to be increasing in frequency as I becoming less and less satisfied with this major and my cologne.
Tomorrow I am going to have an it’s your own fault day you [insert word commenting on intelligence and upbringing], due to this obscene and parlous procrastination. However, since my bad day + worst day ever to number of days in college ratio is 1:9, there’s a damn good chance that come bedtime tomorrow, I’ll still be able to smile.