Sep. 27th, 2004

foi_nefaste: (Sarcasm in Style)
Why is it that, every time my apartment starts to look like there's been a week-long party in it (it's only mugs and papers and books! ... and empty beer bottles, but who would ever notice those...) my mother comes to sleep here? Hence the procrastination about cleaning, of course. Wouldn't it be strange to actually DO the work I have to do?

Other than that, I'm hopelessly busy, and I love it. As of now, on on the editorial committee for one paper at university, I've got a writer's circle, a friend is starting a book club, I've got D&D, and then of course there's going out. And squeezing some amount of reading and essay-writing into that. But it's great fun, much more than staying home and studying all the time. Or procrastinating about studying.

Furthermore, I've met someone who has the same obsessions as me. If in-depth discussion of Buffy isn't interesting, and if a Buffy movie-night isn't an option... you probably don't want to be around. And then, there are puns, internet fixations, and random elements of literature that seem to float around. Fun? Oh yeah.

Well. Now, then. I've got a few hours before my mother gets here, so I'm going to actually clean the place, and study. Won't kill me to actually do my work, I suppose.

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