lovely life

First week of classes is over.  One essay still waiting to be written, paws up, looking at me with big doleful eyes.  Lots of studying and reading to be done over the weekend.  Still, it feels great to  be back at school and in the office with everybody again.  Gives me a great big dose of happy.

Just think, in four months I'll have (if all goes well) a Masters in Bellyaching.  I'm getting great at it, but as we all know, practice makes perfect.  I also have the encouragement of my friends, which makes all the difference! :)  

Oh, stress levels.  There's the point where you feel yourself falling behind, but you still think you can catch up if you work really hard.  Then you get to the panic stage where there's no fucking way you can do everything and you're so so screwed oh my god ohmygod i can't breathe.  Then you kind of pass over to the point where everything is suddenly hilarious and you've strangely stopped worrying about anything... and your paper's not done and it's for tomorrow but... hey look at this great video on YouTube! Hahahahahaahahaaaaa!!!!!!!!

Yeah.  I've been on THAT high for the past couple days.  Now I'm like... literary theory, why SURE I'll read up on that for fun tonight!  You're right, there's no way in God's name I will ever finish Nestor's readings this semester!! Isn't it gonna be awesome?!?

Hahahaha.  I just hope this strange high doesn't wear off that quickly.  It's great for keeping reality at bay.  

right...

Things are getting back to normal, it would seem.  Back to class, back to teaching, back to combatting the karaoke beasts upstairs.  I can't believe they've driven me to another blog post... but there it is.  I haven't complained to them for awhile, but it seems they're as bitter as we've been about us complaining (not that I blame them, oh such stodgy folk are we serious students).  It's not like I enjoy knocking on their door to ask them to quiet down the kara-o-kay when the clock nears midnight, but it's a talent learned from rez life, just get out there and communicate! Yay!

... Anyway, they've stopped answering the door, it would appear, when they know it's me. I knocked... knocked... heard them talking, I thought, about me... rang the doorbell... definitely heard them talking about us (the vacuuming incident, so infamous it's become!)... and ok fine, I kicked the door a little.  What am I supposed to do when they know I'm down there but just won't respond... just walk away? Fuck that.  

They yelled down not to kick the door.

 I yelled up that I was going to bed. So thanks for wrapping it up.

I hate to increase the antagonism through any show of anger, but uh, I'm sorry. If my civilized requests are going to go ignored from now on, I'm at a loss of what to do.  I already try and turn up to my house as close to bedtime as possible.

I should have made them some desserts.  Maybe I should make some more and just try and start peace talks.  We should all learn a lesson from Gaza... fewer bombs, more desserts.

Oh, and Yellowknife was nice, by the way.

Happy New Year