Now, twenty-two days. And counting. Always counting.
I had this long ranty post about drug culture and the casual treatment of "depression" with untested addictive drugs on "trials" and such, but I waited too long and now I'm not quite angry enough to write it. That's all right. It will come back later.
(You know, every time this movie comes on I tell myself I'm not going to watch it, both because I've seen it about twelve times and because even though it has a happy ending, it's a very depressing movie. Lorenzo's Oil. Family Channel shows it several times a month. I'm not entirely sure why. But here I am watching it again. A significant fall from watching Ladyhawk last night. Damn, but I love that movie. :)
Patti is visiting soon after I get home. Visiting her grandparents in Alberta, somewhere. Some time in May. Hopefully the visit won't co-incide with Subcon. But we have to pick her up in Hope. Which will be okay. Mini-roadtrip.
Not finished my CeltCiv paper. Trying to psych myself into finishing it - have five pages to go, don't have a thesis statement. Ugh. Can't seem to convince myself to do it. It's probably not good that I completely lose momentum near the end of the year. Knowing that it's almost over is *not* helping one bit. Can't seem to bring myself to care about it anymore.
Thinking I'll hand it in on Tuesday rather than Monday. He probably won't mind. He's a very forgiving prof. And I *was* sick yesterday, so I have a partially-valid excuse.
Ugh. Tired. Not sleepy, just tired. Veeerrry tired. And utterly unmotivated. (And as an aside, bitterly jealous of anyone living anywhere FoTR is still playing, because where I am I don't get to see the shiny new Two Towers preview and I *want* to, desperately. I'm in withdrawl, here.) In any case, can't even convince myself to write. This is not a good sign.
Apparently the Easter Bunny (or at the very least, the Ridiculously Pro-active RA Dressed as the Easter Bunny) paid a visit to Gilmora today. I opened the door this morning, found eggs on the ledge above the door, hidden in convenient nooks and crannies along the hall, and a little chocolate bunny on the floor in my doorway. (Apparently the Easter Bunny forgot to take off the $0.49 price tag. I probably shouldn't complain. It just amuses me. I suppose delivering to University residences is a frazzling experience. I can see the Bunny's distraction. Maybe the Blue Nun scared him off. ;) Unless it's Bun-Bun this year. Oh, dear... ;)
So, I have a feeling I'll be floating through finals on a cloud of I-don't-give-a-significant-damn. I don't really *want* to, but... sigh. I'm tired of school. I am going to finish this paper, though, and by Tuesday, damnit, because it's on the origins of Halloween, and I like the subject, and it's an excuse to mock Jack Chick and that whatsisname who wrote that "Why Christians Should Never Celebrate Halloween" article (the one with whom I exchanged several rather acidic letters, and *won*, or at least this is what I assume because after I pointed out that none of his research was based on first-hand experience he never wrote me back...), and because CeltCiv is the only class in which I'm getting an A, and I intend to keep that grade at least close to its former glory. I think the midterms may have seriously dented it, though.
Anyway. Ow. A Tolkien Bestiary just fell off the shelf and hit me on the head. I'm taking this as a sign that the Gods of Literature are telling me they want me unconscious. Or at least asleep. And one must never disobey the Literature Gods. Especially the ones associated with J.R.R. Good night... morning. Whatever.