The non-traditional 3-M sticky pad things don't work for shit.
It is the wrong end of the morning for me to be attempting to farble my way through this formal lab report that I've already spent a collective 10 hours working on with my group.
Eating more sugar at this point in my life might send me into a sugar coma, and prevent me from getting the solid 4 hours of sleep that it looks like I'm going to get.
I can be really damn dense sometimes - that or I over-analyze the situation and confuse myself even more than I do on a regular basis.
If I didn't know that my chemistry professor was a good person, I would swear up and down that he hated us and wanted to make us miserable right before finals.
I would like nothing better at this moment than to climb into my bed (which, in all honesty, I absolutely love my dorm bed), curl up, and go to sleep for a little while, just to recharge.
Once again, my heater has decided this is the opportune moment to say "FU Louise!" and refuse to put out heat for as high as it's cranked.
Stupid people are stupid and make me mildly angry.
My internal system will most likely be screaming at me in the morning, but I'm kind of over it, already. Unless I can't even get up, in which case there will be some issues.
My father should have written a guide to college, even though he's never been only to visit his girls and watch soccer games.
Owes more credit to her sister than she originally thought because, holy shit, how did she manage to do this for four years?
Reminds self that said self is going abroad next Fall and that everything will, eventually, in the end, turn out all right.
Why must boys be confusing? Why? Why must they make me over-think and over-analyze things I would otherwise be content not knowing?
Damn it, you preppy New England people that I happen to share a dorm with, you don't get to look at me like I'm beneath you just because my car could totally hit yours head on, and mine wouldn't have any more scratches and scrapes than normal, and you can't stand that I'm okay with everything that I am.
I could really use some chocolate right now. Seriously. A Yorkie or a Snickers.
Wishes that I could make some homemade frosting right now, so the Poor Man's cookies would taste a little more like home and a little less like a substitute for something better.
Keeps telling myself that this will be worth it. That it is always worth it. That everything will turn out okay if I follow Mama's advice and take it one day at a time.
I think I've forgotten half of my acting monologue. Which, honestly, took far longer to memorize than it should have and at some points irritates the crap out of me.
Is saying screw this for the moment and going to get some sleep before I attempt to tackle this thing in a number of hours that is smaller than it should be.