les incompétents

although i'm up to my ass in gawain (zing!), i couldn't resist telling you about the douchenozzle sitting a couple of tables down from me. so, i'm at the hilldale area starbucks, and this fucktard is sitting over there, with a fucking espresso doppio, wearing glasses and loafers, reading the marx/engels reader, which he has clearly read already, as evidenced by the copious assortment of colorful tabs he has littered the book with. i'm pretty sure he's not reading it for a class, since finals week is basically over. and i'm pretty sure that he's not a grad student because he does not have any kind of note-taking apparatus, and he is not even writing margin notes. so my conclusion is that he is just a douche-y asshole. the only way it could be douche-ier is if he were also wearing corduroy pants, a black turtleneck, and a neck scarf. 

not that i'm saying, of course, that there's anything inherently wrong with wearing loafers, reading marx, or drinking straight espresso. in fact, i have been known to do all of those things on occasion, although not all at the same time, and not in the middle of a starbucks. 

gah. now some other dickfaic just sat at the table directly next to me (seriously, there is not even a foot of space between us), despite the fact that literally every single other table is empty. and he's fucking whistling to himself! oh my christ i'm gonna stab someone soon.     

coyote ugly

i have a very love/hate relationship with mornings. i'm sure that anyone who knows me, and especially anyone who has had to interact with me before noon, would most definitely not characterize me as a morning person. i am always frazzled, half-dressed (okay, not really half  dressed, but you know what i mean), and rarely on time. partly, i think this is just characteristic of me, but usually it is mostly due to my inability to think clearly when i'm half asleep. even though i know from years and years of experience that waking up is not the end of the world and that once i get up i will in fact generate enough energy to make it through the day, every single time my alarm goes off (assuming i even wake up enough to register that it is in fact going off), all i can think of is that i am so. fucking. tired. and this happens whether i've had 4 hours or 10 hours of sleep. 

but. i love being awake in the morning. when i actually can convince myself to wake up early (which is quite seldom, as you may have guessed), it is totally the best thing ever. mornings are so full of potential. even if i don't end up actually having a productive day, i don't know that yet in the morning. mornings are quiet, refreshing, clarifying, energizing, &c., &c. my tragic flaw, of course, is that pivotal moment of sleepy deception in which my body tells my brain (or maybe my brain tells my brain?) that there is no possible way that i could get up at that moment without being completely miserable for the entire day (week, even), so i might as well just keep sleeping. and, usually, i give in to this whore of a feeling, only to finally wake up feeling dirty and used. 

because i only blog when i'm avoiding real work

so, i am officially taking classes next year. which is whatever at this point. i was kind of excited at the thought of a break, but i had already resigned myself to another year of unhappiness, so i'm okay with it. however, it is a little bit of a bummer, if only because next year would have been the perfect year to take off, since there are literally zero victorian classes being offered for the entire year. i know, what the fuck. sb is being nice enough to do a directed study with a few of us (which actually seems pretty sweet so far--only 3 5-page papers), and i'm sure el guapo will at the very least allow us mid-mods to work on victorian texts for our papers, even though the course has no intentions of being victorian (seriously, dude, wtf? we all voted for fin de siècle.). but still, i'm going to end up having to take classes in shit that i couldn't give a shit less about, which probably isn't going to help assuage my whole what-the-fuck-am-i-doing-in-school-oh-my-god-i-hate-this-so-much problem.

but on the bright side, i will be teaching lit next year, which could theoretically be really pivotal in helping me get through this quarter-life crisis bullshit. if it totally rocks my box in a way that 100 just can't, then maybe i'll finally find some of that motivation to keep going that everyone else seems to have. either that or i'll hate it and at that point somebody please kill me if that isn't enough reason to quit. 'cause god knows i'm not in this for the writing. 

gawain calls to me. it's gonna be a long night. 

i've just decided to embrace it

clearly, kitty also likes the sounds of rain. she came up to the window and the blinds were closed, so she started anxiously pacing and swatting at them, as if she desperately needed to see whatever was going on outside. i opened them (it always takes her, like, 5 minutes to figure out how to move the blinds). and she just sat there peacefully. i'd say that probably 3rd on her list of favorite things to do would be sitting in the window (1st and 2nd being, of course, sitting with ben and sleeping, respectively).  

speaking of cats (i might as well at this point), we are finally putting sammy (my roommate's toddler-sized cat) on a diet. i say "finally" not because we've been meaning to and just haven't gotten around to it, but because we only recently figured out how to put him on a diet without starving aiko (who, as you may know, is a little bit anorexic/bulimic). this ingenious plan consists merely of feeding kitty on high places, like the top of the fridge or a bookshelf (or the kitchen counter. seriously, he's pretty fat.). as pathetically hungry he seems to be all the time now (and his new diet food is apparently not that great--kitty won't even taste it), i'm kind of a little jealous that he doesn't have to exert any self-control in order to lose weight.