Rough Day

I'm not going to get into the hairy details of my bad day because I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing that I'd complained about administrative paperwork and Mass Ave traffic and creative quandries. I might as well be a sixth grade girl bitching about the price of Mudd Jeans. Or whatever it is they care about.

For once, I do have to say something relatively serious, and it kind of sucks, but here it is.

I won't be putting anything that I write seriously on here anymore. I have a couple of stories that I've finished up, a lot of poems, and honestly, I like tossing those sorts of things around, and I think my friends enjoy reading them, but the bottom line is that you can't put anything on the internet that you don't want to be ripped off or stolen, and for the second time, that's happened to me.

It's a really weird feeling, I must say, regardless of the context and the details, I always just feel hurt. I'd like to try and tell myself that imitation is the highest form of flattery, but I can't escape the notion that someone just wants to have a laugh at me for whatever reason.

I dunno, if anyone has ever stolen something from you and taken credit in any sense, you know it's really enraging. It's like whispering an answer in class only to have the girl in front of you shout it out. Petty, yeah, and we need to let these things go, but nonetheless, you feel nothing but malice towards that person.

It could be worse. Some asshole stole Dave's entire computer last year and the poor guy lost a novel. I guess that's kind of different though.

Anyway, I'm no longer giving anyone the chance to steal my stuff. I do have a portfolio of a lot of things I have written that is accessible via the Lesley College System, so if you want to look at my serious stuff, just let me know and I'll give you access. Somehow. There will be an intense screening process.

But all that's here from now on is Red Sox banter, funny stories, dreams, and lame jokes.

That's really all anyone likes anyway, so it's not a huge loss.

Cheers.

This Is Useless

Well, the semester is winding to a close and I'm running around like a crazy person.

Good news is I finished my psychology paper earlier today and I just finished a draft of a story about two friends and a cat called "Exposing Animals." That means all that's left is the poetry portfolio, the Literature paper, and a couple of finals.

And registration, which is kind of like an internet/paperwork version of the final round of Legends Of The Hidden Temple. I've been fumbling with that metaphoric monkey shrine bullshit for like three weeks now.

And I'm not going to even get into the issues I have with Residence Life.

Residence Life calls my house. My mother's house. Looking for me. The people in charge of the place I live in are calling my mother's house looking for me. I mean...

You know that old dating cliche, like, "He/She has to have a sense of humor?" I just realized today that it's like saying, "He/She has to have the body of a model."

There are a LOT of people with TERRIBLE senses of humor out there. And a lot of them seem to go to my college.

Alright, I'm getting snippy. I didn't have my nap today. Wait, yeah I did. Nathan bought me a burrito too. Things are looking up.