Ruminations

I'm still in the library because somehow I just can't manage to force myself to finish this paper off for the life of me. It's six friggen pages maximum and I'm already on 5, I just need to get it done. Instead I'm reading stuff on Tomato Nation (thanks for nothing Subu) and contemplating some sort of word of the day email so my vocabulary can blossom like...something that blossoms.

This paper is a microcosm for my life. I don't do things, a lot of the time, because I know I'll have more time to do them. I can picture my life next year at this time: Assuming I don't get into grad school and my grandparents aren't suddenly bestowing me with buckets of cash (with which I will travel to the four corners of the globe or Ireland), I'll probably spend the summer on their couch thinking that I don't need to do anything because I just finished university and I've got the rest of my life to "do stuff." Ugh. Sometimes I hate me.

Also, it's suddenly very quiet in the library. It was probably quiet all along, but now it's starting to get to me. I'm left wondering when exactly it was that I needed music on all the time, my background to living, if you will. As my computer has abandoned me, usually I'm listening to Barb or Jo's music. It can be me sitting in the livingroom, reading (the Chronicles of Narnia, right now. C.S. Lewis is a chauvanist, but damn does he know how to write fantasy) and Barb in his room, playing video games with weird soundtrack music. I have no idea what game he's been playing lately, but I'm positive I heard a Rod Stewart song the other day. It can also be Jo's music, filtering into the livingroom from Jo's room along with her caterwauling. I mean, Jo's beautiful singing.

Besides the fact that I am clearly a mercurial and tortured soul, there's no reason for this sudden malaise. All I want write now is to be home and listening to my Coldplay CD (for the billionth time) and reading the Chronicles. Damn you summer classes.

I really need a good hug. Unfortunately the best hugger I've ever met is on the other side of the Atlantic and is a horrible correspondent. Damn you Bert.