if they say it on slashdot, it must be true

The sky was full of little fish scale clouds this morning. I wanted to jump up and play in them and eat mints instead of going to class. I never have flying dreams; I just manage to get way up there somehow and wonder how I'm going to get back down.

I think the psych test was okay. I got five extra points and a "good job!" on the Java assignment he handed back. That made me really happy until I was walking with Jennifer after class, and she said she sometimes wonders how long it will be until they put me in a small room and keep me drugged up enough not to hurt myself.

Am I really that broken and don't know it? Because usually after I have my little rants about "what is WRONG with me and WHY am I fucked UP," I manage to convince myself that I'm fine and just having a bad time at the moment, and it will be okay after I graduate. But people keep TELLING me I'm messed up, which would prly be half the reason *I* think I'm messed up. According to my social psych book, I fit nicely into the self-regulatory perseveration theory, which is defined as "a state in which the individual maintains focus on a lost goal, its significance for the self, and ways to regain what was lost." Also according to the text, I am either going to find an alternative path to value or kill myself. The lost goal is in turn exemplified through the self-evaluation maintenance model. Three critical variables: Performance of other person, closeness to other person, relevance of domain to my self-concept. It is very nearly the ONLY relevant domain to my self-concept, I am far too close to the person, and he is better at it than me whether he thinks he is or not.

How sick is it that I would not think twice about selling my soul to any greater demon in exchange for becoming a Sun-certified Java programmer overnight.

I need to stop taking psych classes. Oh, yes, I do.

At least there is only one more test this week, and then there are no more until October 26. So maybe I'll shut up about my grades for a while once all these are handed back.

I am painting my toenails Ripe Plum (Maybelline Ultimate Wear #220), drinking diet Coke, and listening to my second-favorite CD (since I don't OWN the first-favorite yet) in an attempt to find my center before I have evilpookie at two and need to be motivated enough to force them into having a group meeting today or at least very very soon.

Tomorrow night, Caitlin and I are supposed to go eat dinner chez Jennifer. That is going to make me feel worse. I need to play with Punkin more, because she is Not A Geek and therefore is not a threat in this sphere of my existence.

Perhaps in others.

It's a pity we can't sing and play guitar. I could find fulfillment through being a Lime Girl.

DAMMIT I need to finish the fourth album, make a new Scurvy Beat, and try to figure out why the damn Perl scripts won't run on the Showme server when they were fine on fire. I know I changed the path to where he said it should be. That is going to be fun, since I haven't written any, looked at, or thought about Perl in months, and we just barely spat at it in class anyway.

Punkin needs ice cream. More specifically, she needs FUCKING ice cream, but she prly does that differently than Biskie and I do, so she should get Leah or whoever she plays with that I don't know. I'm sorry that I'm weird and geeky and hate Ani and Tori and don't understand. I do the best I can, but the architecture is different. Sparc vs. Intel or whatever.

I am hungry. I always seem to write these just before I eat. I swear I don't eat all the time. That boy's brother said, just after he saw a picture of me and the girlglut for the first time, that he had always thought of me as a pimply-faced, overweight college girl with nothing better to do than sit and chat except for her one class a day and was glad to find out I wasn't. Now I'm always afraid people think that.

It isn't true.

I have at least two classes every day.

random thoughts

I hate when people don't capitalize I. It's a stab in the gut to my latent English major.

"If I were a CD, I would be a record." - Punkin. (Splut Quotes Page)

There are pictures of two different vend-a-bait machines in my photo album. I think someday we should take a cross-country road trip and create a photographic tribute in the form of a coffee table book to immortalize this integral piece of our American heritage.

Dead baby jokes amuse me way, way, way more than they should.

I saw the Wienermobile once, in St. Louis on my way back from Terre Haute on Labor Day last year, at ten in the morning. I wanted to follow it but was afraid I'd get lost if I left the interstate. Driving is fun really early in the morning. The best time I ever had to drive myself anywhere was when I came back from the Haute last November. I left about seven thirty in the morning and had been awake since nine the previous morning. The resulting exhaustion/coffee glut/post-sobbing hysterics glow made for an interesting trip.

GOD, I need to go somewhere out of state. This was the first summer in a while that I didn't GO ANYWHERE, and I'm starting to feel it. I can only breathe Missouri air for so long before I get brain tumors.

I suppose I will find a temporary solution to my wanderlust by hiking over to Bingham to pick up dinner and then checking to see if the hard drive et al. has arrived (as if the baka nugget mailpeople would have sorted it by now if it did).