sentri

There are mice having sex under my bed. The noises are somewhat distracting, but I don't want to interrupt. That would just be rude. Plus, it's the first and most action my bed has ever seen, and I feel a new bed should witness something that might require euphemisms, at least within the first year. I haven't been fulfilling that obligation, so it's only fair...
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I opted to stay home from my classes yesterday. At this point, I've falled behind considerably in my work. I intend to talk to each of my instructors seperately and finding out if this semester is at all salvagable considering how much I've mucked it up thusfar. So, there's a likely possibility that I may owe the state money in the near future, which is...
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I'm not having a very good day. In fact, I'm having a bad day. Would anybody mind too terribly much if I just chose this time to whore myself out for some lovin'? (i.e. Fishing for kind words, compliments, etc.)

Ode To A Morning Erection by Sentri

You suck. Be off with thee and suchery.

I'm still here. Just working approximately 40-46 hours a week in addition to my two days at school. Fond wishes and all the like.

Not much to say right now. Just felt like updating. Haven't been going through the best time, and I usually like to leave my more emotional rants quarantined in another journal of mine. Hope all y'all are doing well.

Almost time for Nan Desu Kan. I just hooked up the karaoke equipment tonight, and everything still works just fine, though I should probably wipe some of the cords down with a damp cloth. They somehow got quite sticky since last I saw them.

This also marks the first test that I've done with the equipment under my possession. The speakers are mine, the unit...
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I don't like Mondays. Not at all like Brenda Ann Spencer mind you. But still, I don't like Mondays.

I wonder..

Can I just be sad without necessarily needing to explain or know all the reasons why? I assume it's a wall I built around myself. (Paraphrasing now) A wall whose bricks are made of analysis, whose mortar is made up of worry, and.. what's the third thing?

Bricks, mortar..

There is no third thing.

There are days when I'm tired of trying to...
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Writing is coming more and more naturally to me. After such a long period of time where I was constantly aware of how many sentences I began with the same word, or worrying about how a specific sentiment would be received by a specific reader, I must say, it's coming as a breath of fresh air. A welcome one at that.

Mind you, it's still...
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