What is Writer Man doing? Where is that jasper? Is he really just leaving us alone for a few days or is there a more sinister reason we haven't noticed his ever present hand in our lives? I know he's sitting up there in his little apartment laughing because he's finally found a way that I can't figure him out. I'm too smart for his own good. But now that means nothing because he's psyching me out. Well fine. Do it - psych me out! I don't care. But know that I'm going to pretend to not care at all and do the only thing I can... which is wait.
Now that I'm done expounding on weird, imaginary stories I carry on inside my head, I can talk about what's actually going on in my life, which, of course, is nothing. Well, that's not entirely true... I have a 10 page paper for V Ross due next week, I have to order 200 blank white matte finish CD-R's, and the same number of nubbins, which are actually called dots, I have to apparently write a reflection paper on some articles for Psych, in 15 minutes I need to go fix some things on the Papyrus and then send it to the printer, then go to a radio meeting at 12:30 which I'm dreading, I have to scan these articles for my mom and email them to her because she's crazy, and I'm sure I have a lot of other random COR 401 things to accomplish. Oh life.
Sometimes rain that's needed falls, the Weepies tell me.
Tonight I'm going to the play! I forgot. Then afterwards I have a COR meeting which will kill any and all joy that the play brings me.
Sometimes my positivity hides behind my stress in a big game of hide and seek and I can't find it. Those are sad times.
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