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elanya at 11:04am on 25/11/2005
elanya at 11:04am on 25/11/2005It is almost eleven and I just want to go back to sleep. Rar. Yesterday was a very long day. I think I will wrap 'Kiios present and then see what I feel up to. I need to work on a bunch of stuff, but I have a lot of options, at least. Mreh. I think I'll probably read. I could go to the library for a bit, but I'm not entirely sure it is open. Also I don't know that I actually need to. I must remember that I *have* to write that paper for Landscape. maybe after I do some readings. I still have two books to get through for France. *sigh(*. She did say I can just read bits of them at least. i did read the whole of the first one, though, mostly because it made be go 'buh?' (there was Freud, and the Marquis de Sade). Rar. I should maybe eat breakfast and get dressed but I am not particularly inclined, and if I don't go to the library, then I have no real need to leave my house :p Unless I make a trip out to Food Lion for stuff. We'll see. I'm all stiff and sore today and my daily stretching hasn't really helped. I feel like I'm missing something. Sometimes I just feel like I experience the world a lot differently than the people around me.
Also, I kicked something in Dina's car last night and the top of my foot is really sore today. It was the runner that the seat is on, to slide it backwards, if that means anything, and I hit it at such an angle that it felt like I'd kicked it (fairly hard) with the funny bone of the top of my foot. I must have caught it rght between the bones or right on a join or something. 'S annoying. I wonder if this counts as whining? I'm really just trying to write about something other than school work and put off the inevitable.
Oh in other words, I am dissapointed in jmy own ability to distinguis spices. I only got 12/5 in the silly game we played at the shower yesterday, though I was tricked twice. But mixing up nutmeg and cloves? Not cool! Bad nose.
...Now I want gingerbread. Mmm, gingerbread. Some whims are just not meant to be denied :o
Also, I kicked something in Dina's car last night and the top of my foot is really sore today. It was the runner that the seat is on, to slide it backwards, if that means anything, and I hit it at such an angle that it felt like I'd kicked it (fairly hard) with the funny bone of the top of my foot. I must have caught it rght between the bones or right on a join or something. 'S annoying. I wonder if this counts as whining? I'm really just trying to write about something other than school work and put off the inevitable.
Oh in other words, I am dissapointed in jmy own ability to distinguis spices. I only got 12/5 in the silly game we played at the shower yesterday, though I was tricked twice. But mixing up nutmeg and cloves? Not cool! Bad nose.
...Now I want gingerbread. Mmm, gingerbread. Some whims are just not meant to be denied :o
hungry
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have some definitions from the devil's Dictionary:
Entertainment, n. Any kind of amusement whose inroads stop short of death by dejection.
Enemy, n. A desinging scounrel who has done you some service which it is inconvenient to repay. In military affairs, a body of men actuated by the basest motives and pursuing the most iniquitous aim.
Dice, n. Small polka-dotted cubes of ivory, constructed like a lawyer to lie on any side, but commonly on the wrong one.
Cannibal n. A gastronome of the old school who preserves the simple taste and adheres to the natural diet of the pre-pork period.
The practice of cannibalism once was universal, as the smallest knowledge of philology will serve to show.
'Oblige us,' say the erudite author of the Delectatio Demonorum, 'by considring the derivation of the word "sarcpphagus", and see if it be not suggestive of poted meats. Observe the significance of the phrase "sweet sixteen". What a world of meaning lurks in the expression " she is sweet as a peach', and how suggestive of a luncheon are the words "tender youth"! A kiss is but a modified bite, and when a young girl insists on making a "strawberry mark" on the back of your hand she only gives way to an inherited instinct she has not learned to control. The fond mother, when she rapturously avers that her baby is "almost good enough to eat", merely shows that she is herself only a trifle too good to eat it.'
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