Who says "It's a great Monday"?
Mar. 10th, 2003 08:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aruanApparently, I do. It's been raining, real rain, all dramatically gloomy and nonstop for the past two days, but not today. The clouds parted just for me, and it was the beautiful spring day to end all beautiful spring days in Gainesville as I got in my car to trek home.
Most enjoyable drive home on record, even if it did take about an hour longer than it should've. All sunny sky and cool breeze and good music. Mercifully few idiot drivers, no incidents with officers of the law, and nothing of the rain everyone at home spoke of all day long.
My puppy is the epitome of all that is good and sweet in this world. If it should so happen that JC and my puppy are ever in the same room together, I will simply die from the unbearable cuteness. Also, I propose that if at any point any human being feels neglected, they should be able to turn into a Yorkie and all would be remedied, because there's no not loving and cuddling and adoring them.
My mom has her own business cards! I'm going through the stuff on the kitchen counter and there's a box and I'm all, business cards? And they're all nonchalantly, yeah, business cards. But then I open it and pick one up and it's hers! My mom has her own desk in an office where she is a licensed mortgage broker! I'm so insanely proud of her for doing it all, not the least of which was going to college here when she didn't even finish high school in Europe. I'm gonna tote it around in my wallet and show everyone like parents do with pictures of their kids.
Dinner with the father tomorrow night. By that time, I should have completed:
-reading at least one chapter of Economics, seeing as how I've been given the second chance of second chances with that class
-buying a birthday card for aforementioned personage
-getting some semblance of a tan so as not to ruin everyone's appetite, because apparently, driving across Florida in a convertible for five hours didn't do a damn thing
-having a talk with mother figure and setting up doctor's appointment
-writing at least a little, and if not just typing up more notes for the epic that has eaten.my.brain
Had myself something of a renaissance over this weekend. As I cleaned my room and packed to come home, I realized something. I am an irresponsible flake who forgets anything she doesn't write down with the nothing in the way of prioritization skills. This comes mostly from never having to actually work at something, or do work for that matter, for the first seventeen years of my life, but that's no excuse now. I'm not allowed to make piles anymore. Paperwork will either sit on my desk or get done. I will ask myself the pertinent questions and ration fannish time. I can't do another month like February. I will learn the meaning of the
Just watched the European version of the I Want You Back video. My god. I just. There.aren't.any.words. You know, the eponymous debut may be gay-euro-disco pop, and we say that flippantly with a whole lotta love, but I could've gone without the accompanying visuals. My god! Such puppies! Never has that term been more salient. Must.go.wash.out.brain.
Okay, it might be a little funny when you consider how they changed the US release to appeal to the teenage girl demographic, the transformation from disco twinks to funloving boys next door. Aah, marketing. Shamelessly giving the people what they want and repackaging what they didn't think they did.
Most enjoyable drive home on record, even if it did take about an hour longer than it should've. All sunny sky and cool breeze and good music. Mercifully few idiot drivers, no incidents with officers of the law, and nothing of the rain everyone at home spoke of all day long.
My puppy is the epitome of all that is good and sweet in this world. If it should so happen that JC and my puppy are ever in the same room together, I will simply die from the unbearable cuteness. Also, I propose that if at any point any human being feels neglected, they should be able to turn into a Yorkie and all would be remedied, because there's no not loving and cuddling and adoring them.
My mom has her own business cards! I'm going through the stuff on the kitchen counter and there's a box and I'm all, business cards? And they're all nonchalantly, yeah, business cards. But then I open it and pick one up and it's hers! My mom has her own desk in an office where she is a licensed mortgage broker! I'm so insanely proud of her for doing it all, not the least of which was going to college here when she didn't even finish high school in Europe. I'm gonna tote it around in my wallet and show everyone like parents do with pictures of their kids.
Dinner with the father tomorrow night. By that time, I should have completed:
-reading at least one chapter of Economics, seeing as how I've been given the second chance of second chances with that class
-buying a birthday card for aforementioned personage
-getting some semblance of a tan so as not to ruin everyone's appetite, because apparently, driving across Florida in a convertible for five hours didn't do a damn thing
-having a talk with mother figure and setting up doctor's appointment
-writing at least a little, and if not just typing up more notes for the epic that has eaten.my.brain
Had myself something of a renaissance over this weekend. As I cleaned my room and packed to come home, I realized something. I am an irresponsible flake who forgets anything she doesn't write down with the nothing in the way of prioritization skills. This comes mostly from never having to actually work at something, or do work for that matter, for the first seventeen years of my life, but that's no excuse now. I'm not allowed to make piles anymore. Paperwork will either sit on my desk or get done. I will ask myself the pertinent questions and ration fannish time. I can't do another month like February. I will learn the meaning of the
Just watched the European version of the I Want You Back video. My god. I just. There.aren't.any.words. You know, the eponymous debut may be gay-euro-disco pop, and we say that flippantly with a whole lotta love, but I could've gone without the accompanying visuals. My god! Such puppies! Never has that term been more salient. Must.go.wash.out.brain.
Okay, it might be a little funny when you consider how they changed the US release to appeal to the teenage girl demographic, the transformation from disco twinks to funloving boys next door. Aah, marketing. Shamelessly giving the people what they want and repackaging what they didn't think they did.
