El Cumple

Well, I’ve decided that it’s true; the world is indeed conspiring against me. The brainless non-functional idiots in my photo class were clogging up the darkroom for 6 hours this evening, so immediately AFTER I was informed that I will be writing not one, but TWO (yes, that’s 2, dos, due, two) theses this year by my CompLit advisor, I had to wait another 3 before I could finish my prints that are due in, oh, 7 hours. Let’s just say that there was a brief period of freak out-age.

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, it’s finally Thursday, and I’m no longer ‘not yet one and twenty.’ Had a chat with my dad tonight just to make sure that they don’t get blown to bits by Isabel, but you know how these things go; it’s probaly going to head back out to sea and not bother anyone. I also, after spending a good 2.5 hours inhaling D-76 developer (most likely happily feeding the strep-throat bacteria I’m currently cultivating around my tonsils), received several *unexpected* happy birthday IM’s, which was pleasant. I was hoping that someone would send me some sort of electronic shout-out to counter my current irritation with anything resembling academic life, and hearing from one person in particular turned the corners of mouth slightly upward. It’s nice when old friends remember that sort of crap sometimes.

So it’s now 1:11 am, on September 18th, and it’s way past my bedtime from September 17th. I choose not to think about all the shit that I’ve got to do this weekend, not to worry about the dreaded fellowship committee, and how my thesis advisor thinks I’m an incompetent idiot. None of it can be that important, right?

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