Whaaaaa. I've been MIA, because I've been trapped under a pile of doom. My prelim is in 3 weeks and I can't bring myself to write more than about 3 lines a day, which means there is no way in hell it will be done before I'm seventy. My dietetics classes are making me want to stab someone in the eye with my paring knife. Seriously, if I've gotten to 33 without ever having to make a popover or take calculus, I probably will never need those skills. Really. And I most definitely will not need those skills in what ever job I happen to get. I fucking hate math and I fucking hate baking. I will not be looking for a job in either of those fields. In addition, at one of the shittiest points in my life to date, the boy-who-would-rather-not-be-mentioned has decided that since he is moving on to bigger and better things in California, he will no longer be needing me around. Should I be surprised? Did I not know what dating an emotionally immature transitional 26-year old would entail? Especially one who has made it clear all along that I was 1) not the right social class 2) not the right religion 3) not the right age and 4) not smart enough for him. Good luck on finding someone cuter, smarter AND most importantly tolerant of your emotional instability and mommy issues.
Side note: Item 31 on my life to do list is to "end a relationship with grace" Guess I'm not checking that one off today.
In addition, I have not been able to find time or energy to run or work out. And my apartment has succumbed to squabbit dust and hay. If someone walked into today, they would assume I was squatting.
SCREAM.
Where is the light at the end of my tunnel? Where??? Light. That reminds me. There is an obnoxious fiber optic light that appeared on my night stand a couple of nights ago. An obnoxious fiber optic light that is practically begging to be thrown out the window and/or run over by my car.....
grace, Ms. Riotkitte, grace. *sigh*
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