I've been pretty useless the past two days. I downloaded a game from my childhood. It's called Pharaoh. It's like an Egypt-themed version of Roller Coaster Tycoon or a type of Age of Empires without any wars. Thoroughly addictive. I haven't played Bejeweled in a few days!
I'm thoroughly addicted to smoking now though. I had to steal one from my roomie this evening because I haven't had the money to buy any myself. Smoked the whole thing in under 2 minutes and nearly fell over.
Either there is something wrong in my brain that I am trying to shush up via distractions and nicotine, or the distractions and nicotine are destroying my brain. Only therapy can tell. I start back on the 4th. I really want it to help. The name of the counsellor is Kathy, unfortunately. That does not bode well. Very few Kathys are helpful people. I already know one who is great, but finding 2 good Kathys in my limited acquaintance is statistically improbable.
I did my stats exam this evening. Besides the fact that I spent the entire day and night before the exam focusing on Egypt instead of studying and I left my crib sheet on my kitchen table, it went well.
What am I doing with my life? I'm freaking useless and a spineless psycho bitch. I wouldn't mind so much if any of this made me particularly happy.
I'm probably angsting so much because of my impending lady issues. Does the fact that I'm ragingly hormonal negate all of my present perceptions of the universe?
Going to a party with humans at it tomorrow! I looking forward to it! Need a costume though. Still not sure which scotch I want to bring. Maybe I'll bring both and drink the yummy stuff myself and use the rest to befriend people (because who doesn't want free scotch, right?).
I need to get back to Elmira soon though. It smells so good there this time of year. Need to go see Lynn and Doug and Jemma and try to get my life back onto some sort of track. Without regular exposure to old people I sabotage my own life.
The thing that annoys me most about this blog is how much I talk about myself. Count the number of "I"s in it. Revolting.