This is the second time the phrase "I need coffee! Fuck!" has appeared in one of my entries recently

Oh dear. It would seem that I got myself so inspired and motivated about non-school-related topics this break (Peace Corps, half-marathon, crafty projects) that it's two o'clock on Sunday and I have not a word of my paper written. I have seven sources, but I still need to read the bulk of each article and a few chapters in each of the two books, and then, oh yes, write the seven to ten pages required.

I'd really like to be at home for a while. My parents had to leave yesterday morning, but the only way the flights would work out is if I stay here with the Gliddens until tomorrow morning by myself. I really, really miss them-- only spending two and a half days with them was not enough at all.

In a perfect world, this is what I would do for the next week. I would be at home. I would spend all day of every day making delicious foods and desserts, making fabric flowers for my mom or knitting for my dad or Janet, or watching movies with my dad, or reading by the fire. At night I would go do things with Shax and Nicole. We'd see the new Christopher Guest movie. And we'd finally make our tie skirts. And we'd eat exorbitant amounts of sushi. Wait, actually, Shax and I would eat exorbitant amounts of sushi, and watch Nicole order some sort of noodle bowl and then pick it apart, eating about half and then getting a burger somewhere else.

But no, I am here in California, "trying to write" but really just farting around on facebook while Anna and Claire repeatedly recite the "Ba Ram Ewe" code of honor from Babe loudly while chasing each other on rolling desk chairs outside my door. Oh, scratch that, now they're back to trying to kill each other with the avada kedavra curse. Is that healthy for a nine year-old and a twelve year-old? Ah, HP. I love it.

And the next few weeks is going to be nuts, with Sister Week, then blackberry removal stuff, then forensics tourney, then cello performance, then dance performance... and then finals. I'm excited about all of it but the forensics and the finals, and the general whole we-own-your-soul idea.

I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I didn't try to do every activity under the sun. Maybe I'd actually be ok with writing papers when they came around if I didn't also have forensics speeches to memorize, cello to practice, and all that crap.

Nah. It would still suck. I think it's the whole 18 credits bit that's killing me at the moment. I'm pooped.

At least I went for a run this morning for the first time in a week and a half. It was painful. I lost a lot of calf muscle, just sitting around on my ass and eating mashed potatoes. But I ran for a solid amount of time for a getting-back-into-it run.

Man! I just had an intense missing camp moment.

"Claire, stop! No killing your sister!"
"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Actually, I think I've had my fill of kids for a while.

Man. I'm worried about my fundies project that I just turned in. The wall of my stage definitely went through the wall of theatre in one place. Whoops. But I turned it in anyway, a) because it was seven hours from the time I had to leave campus to get to the airport the next morning, and b) because a boy who shall remain nameless kept putting his arm around me and hugging me and showing me things and giggling (yes, giggling) and while it wasn't entirely unwanted he was standing right there, and we just got to the point where we're actually on good terms, and it was awkward. Plus, now that we're on more than good terms, so to speak, it's doubly as awkward in situations like that. So I left. I think it was a good plan. Still, I have to confess that a big part of me is sick of just flirting and wondering. Most of the time that part of me is shoved aside by the boy-crazy excited part, however. She's a lot more fun to have around.

I DON'T CARE ABOUT ROCK ART. There, I said it. What now, paper?! Wha-TA!!

Noooo, alas, alack, you're right, and that's the thing-- I do care about rock art. I care too much about everything. But right now I'd rather be sitting in Chaco Canyon observing it than analyzing it and the gender stereotypes it reveals.

My parents gave me a Sylvia Plath anthology!!

DAMMIT I was back on track thinking about the paper! Fuckfuckfuck. I need coffee! Fuck!

*headdesk*