(Tangent: I have a Glarkware t-shirt, an Xmas present from mik100 from many years ago, that says: "America is Scary."
It's creepy how often these days things I wrote for my fictional universe with spaceships and mutant powers and ten-thousand-year-old-secret-societies actually happen in the U.S., but nowhere else. Right on schedule, too. o.O)
Watched Enchanted tonight. It is disturbing, as the roomie commented, that Disney is now going post-modern. I mean, if Disney's there, then what's left? Post-post-modernism? I'm not nearly awake enough to contemplate that. Enjoyed it, though.
I am very tired. Not sure exactly why, as slept 'til ten AM and was only at school four hours. Am perhaps out of brain practice? Possibly due to three hours of sitting quietly in a dark seminar room watching grainy documentary footage from the 1970s and not actually accomplishing anything. Also we're going to have to do the silly introduce-yourself roundtable again on Thursday, when the real instructor is there, bringing me to a sum total of... ugh. Five. For three actual courses. For what reason are they under the impression that English majors will be social in later life and must therefore be trained?
And ugh, must get up early tomorrow. Landlord is finally coming by to... well, I'm not entirely sure, aside from bring us the cheque for Mum for the massive amount of cleaning we did when we moved in. (Okay, they did, I did not do, because I was in Toronto, thank Bog. But Mum did! And I think at least one of my sisters! That counts, right? Right?) He wants to "have a look around," by which I assume he means "see how much better a state the unit is in when I do not rent it to crackheads." I swear, if he makes even one sound about the shelves, I am going to... do something. I haven't figured out what. And it will just be me, as calantha42 will be at class already. At least he can explain to me why the fucking smoke detector will not shut up. And then fix it. I am currently using it as a paper weight on the rent cheque, so that I cannot forget to demand this.
And I have to brave the bookstore tomorrow, too, horrifying-line-of-frosh or no horrifying-line-of-frosh. Save me.