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[Apr 23 2012 / 8:38pm] |
I JUST FINISHED MY TWO FUCKING DEGREES
and dyed my hair purple.
Let's all make out, guys.
Also I'm playing a provincial election drinking game.
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| notes from the underapileofhomework. |
[Mar 25 2012 / 8:45pm] |
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- I have multiple deadlines every week for the next four weeks. Except next week, but the week after I have four major deadlines in five days, so I feel okay with this lie.
- I am in the office using InDesign to put together a poster that I need to pretend to give a fuck about on Friday.
- It's on the Latin American music scene in Calgary.
- And I blatantly do not give a fuck about my research.
- Because it was a tiny sample size and the idea of drawing conclusions from it is academically laughable.
- This course is kind of making me want to punch my finishing-her-PhD instructor in the face.
- But I can't, cause she's paying me to proofread her dissertation after the semester's over.
- Underpaying me, but whatever.
- I find out next week if I got a grant to do more anthro research over the summer.
- I might turn it down because the idea of doing more academia right now makes me want to puke everywhere and disembowel someone.
- In just over four weeks I will have completed my undergraduate degrees.
- Assuming I survive them.
- Idk.
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[Mar 17 2012 / 9:58pm] |
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thank
god
for
jameson.
THAT'S BLOODY ALL.
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| Conversely, here is something that is NOT dull. |
[Jan 11 2012 / 5:10pm] |
Coming to America
1778
There was a girl, and her uncle sold her, wrote Mr. Ibis in his perfect copperplate handwriting.
That is the tale; the rest is detail.
There are stories that are true, in which each individual's tale is unique and tragic, and the worst of the tragedy is that we have heard it before, and we cannot allow ourselves to feel it too deeply. We build a shell around it like an oyster dealing with a painful particle of grit, coating it with smooth pearl layers in order to cope. This is how we walk and talk and function, day in, day out, immune to others' pain and loss. If it were to touch us it would cripple us or make saints of us; but, for the most part, it does not touch us. We cannot allow it to.
( Tonight, as you eat... )
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[Jan 11 2012 / 10:52am] |
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DULL.
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