I should have been a pair of ragged claws...

As my hair grows out from the shortest cut I've had since I was born and they had to shave the top of my head to put an iv in, I realise that it's getting more and more 30's silent film. I look like Eluina, who must be rescued by the dashing Robelard in the riveting final act of "Harlequin of Doom" from the emminantly evil Chandra the Nefarious and his Iron Train of Death.... or some such nonsense... not that that's a bad thing, I'm just saying...

I am tired of being spoonfed here. We're college students. I had thought that that meant that we were assumed to be able to read and write and interpret stories, but I guess I was wrong. I just had to sit through an hour long line-by-line interpretation by the professor of possibly the best poem ever ever ever, and I am amazed that people aren't able to get this for themselves. Come on, people. "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." One of the most self-explainatory poems ever... and we must sit through a line by line explaination because you can't wrap your minds around phrases like "Do I dare to eat a peach?" and "I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled." Gah.

I must say, the only thing keeping me going right now is the prospect of a nap later on... mmmm, nap....

(no subject)

Oh. My. God.

Shatner? Rocketh mightily. His new CD is now my favorite thing ever. Wow.

No, not even remotely kidding... this is awesome.

In an unrelated bit of strangeness, in my late night paper writing I forgot and left an opened can of Mountain Dew on my desk. I just tried to move it, and a gazillion ants came pouring out of and around it. Wow. It's all cleaned up now, but I'll be playing the newest version of Whack-a-Mole, Squish-an-Ant for the next few days now. BAM! Got another. Gah.

I was so tired this afternoon that I collapsed onto my bed [if one can be said to collapse onto a bed that is six feet up in the air] and the next I knew it's 5. Ahhhh. Grog happy now. Now Grog want FOOD!