they won't love you like I love you in Dancing on a Blade (September 2019)

Title means nothing. I just have the song stuck in my head.

University grew teeth this week. The work’s coming in like a nor’easter in Maine in January. I am not happy about this. At the same time, I am oddly thrilled about this. I think it’s a perverse streak where I like to load shit right up on myself and then fail and then point out how dumb I am for taking all that on. Even if I do it all, you understand, I will “lose.” It won’t all be perfect, and I’m ignoring the house (barely home.) I’m living on pot pies and hot Cheetos, for heaven’s sake. I cannot do much more like this, but this is a week without a weekend. (I mean, Saturday and Sunday exist, but I’ve got plans for them. Aunt Pat wants to go to a quilt show. I like quilt shows.)

Tonight, I need to do my Spanish lesson. We do the stupid VHL site, and then we learn the shit in class. It’s repaso tomorrow, because quiz one is Monday. Review Sunday, hoping to get to that. Also hoping to use Sunday to grind out papers and the short story concept I kind of had (a woman whose abnormal menstrual flow turns her into a macabre Mother Nature.) I mean I need more parts, but it seems like a fun concept.

Friday letting Lu meet her potential puppy. Saturday, quilt show. Sunday, grind like fuck and Do The Things.

I have a paper due for Forensic Mit.
I have web content due for ENG300.
I gotta type up those notes - that’s my job.
I have a story due for ENG329 and I need another story for workshopping.

That’s like three papers in a weekend. Can we say sucksville?

Notes, though. Then Spanish. Then pack bag, drag ass through shower, and find clothes for tomorrow. Then sleep. Then wake. Then go, go, go. Pimpin ain’t easy.