Every day
I
Come back from class
And my
Roommate is
Sleeping
I'm such a dumbass.

The CUSA show was apparently a success. I've always been suspicious of congratulations, though; I suspect everyone secretly thinks I suck, because I pretty much do myself. I'm listening to Sade now, and I've decided that she's not quite my cup of tea. Ah well, the more shit I have on my computer, the better; what else will I do with my excess hard disk space?

I tried playing some Suikoden III today - I was in the mood for a video game revival of sorts. The thing is, I can't seem to get back into the gaming groove, for some reason. I never imagined this day would come, but it apparently has. Ah, where have all the late nights in Baldur's Gate gone? I still kind of hate reality and think it sucks, but for some strange reason, I don't feel half as much pleasure from my romps into those magical virtual worlds. It's a damn shame, says I.

I'm waiting for a call for dinner; I'm hoping that I get one soon, or I will be fairly hungry; right now I suppose the idea is that if I get really hungry, I'll just cave and make my way to Bartlett myself; I figure I can hold out for a while longer yet, though. I'm just too fucking lazy, and it's too fucking cold. I should repeat that last line for emphasis - it's too FUCKING COLD in this fucking city. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy and all, just that I could do without my fucking testicles fucking freezing every fucking time I step out of my door. That really sucks donkey dick. Fucknuts!

Six classes is going alright - I missed my first class of the quarter today - French with Cyril. I figured I was just about due for a holiday; after all, I've been a nice, hardworking model student so far, haven't I? Yes I have. I answer my own question. Hurrah.

I'm now deliberating what to do first - take a nap, mix a couple drinks, or do my french homework. Short odds on the homework though; I'm such a fucking lazy pig.

Ah, the first day of school - yesterday started off a little slow; a lot of sitting around, waiting for things to happen - I expected a bigger frenzy, but it didn't really happen. All the familiar faces came streaming in, in no particular order, then there were the one or two conspicuous absences which made you realise just how central some people are to your nightly plans. Things suddenly took off anyway; the freight train can only sit in the station whistling for so long before something has to explode, and everything did - softly, anyway.

So here I am, at the real end of last night - this morning. It's quiet out, and last night is now another hazy blur in a long string of hazy blurs - there's a slight throbbing somewhere, but I can't quite place it; it's not a distressed throbbing, though, it's a happy throbbing, like the beating of a heart; the monster is alive again, and it's happy.

It's good to be back.

Today I made a new and exciting cover for my new and exciting diary which, as usual, nobody will ever be allowed to read. The third volume of the boring boring life of Joel series is entitled 'no thinking'; I think that the cover looks a little ugly, to be honest - I really suck at a whole bunch of things, and art is one of them.

My new year resolutions - well, to be honest, I'm not one for new year resolutions; what's the point of picking a day every year where you make promises to yourself? It's sort of like buying yourself christmas presents, in my opinion - what's the fucking point, says I? There is no point, is my reply. It is all stupid. Arbitrarily, therefore, my resolutions are: a) to make less stupid resolutions and b) to have more fun (since I obviously haven't had enough already).

I have a driving test on Friday; after being absolutely certain of the fact that I would totally flunk it on Monday, I've decided that I now have about a 50% chance of success; god willing, there should be another bad driver on the road come Friday; wish me luck!

Ah 2003 - you know you're getting older when you start wishing time would slow down; everything is happening so fast, isn't it? I have less than a decade before I'm 30 - what'll I do then? I'll be OLD! Sometimes I want to be 17 again, or even 13 - my teenage years are gone, damnit! They are gone. It is a sobering thought. Fuck.