What's that, you say? The first weekend back on campus, you say? Too many self-destructive feelings right now, you say?

I have razorblades in my room? Okay.

...

I definitely did not mean to do that. OOPS.
(But after all this, what's one more scar?)
Found out while skyping with my mom on the weekend that not only did someone try to break in to our house, but also my childhood playground was burned to the ground.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, TORONTO?!

Luckily, the would-be burglars didn't get in (though we now need a whole new door, thanks so fucking much), and no one was hurt in the fire.

I'm just so mad, though.

(But. I don't want to end on a negative note. The Whirlwind City Tour was beyond amazing. Pics up soon at Dutch My Life.)
Today, my doctor tells me I am officially underweight with a BMI of 17.6 (it was hovering around 19 in May). She says I am officially putting myself at risk of heart problems because my body will start rerouting energy from protein - heart muscle - in order to function.

...Whoops. >.>

I am going to try and unclench the excessively tight sphincter of my mind and fix this.

Um, in happier news, Chloe's friend, Melissa got me a Pottermore account last week! We spent the weekend celebrating - by reading copious amounts of fic and watching The Pacific. (IDK if I could personally ever get into the fandom. The series was brilliant, from what I saw - the battle scenes! characterization! holy gut-wrenching perfection, batman! - but I kept getting thrown out of the loop because on the one hand, the Japanese were "the enemy", and on the other, they're my grandparents...).

Something else I learned recently: conscientiousness runs very strongly in my family. In Ye Days of Olde, when my dad, my uncle and my Oma were new to Canada, my dad had a job as a paper boy, delivering newspapers around Toronto's St. Clair E./Birchmount area, which was not the nicest part of town. One morning, he got off the elevator in one of the apartment buildings on his route and discovered a large pool of blood in the hallway, seeping out from under one of the doors. Probably, most people would have turned around and called it a day. Not my dad. In his own words: "I thought to myself, people need their daily newspapers!"

I feel like that somehow explains so much about my family.
This is a post all about eighteenth century French literature! Because reading Diderot is just... LOLWUT. But it is not a srs!bznz post because a) LOL THE BOOK IS WRITTEN IN FRENCH, WHAT IS THIS READING COMPREHENSION YOU SPEAK OF? and (consequently), b) my summary of the book is basically as follows: two guys ride around and talk about their sexcapades.

I REALLY ENJOYED THIS BOOK. :DDDDDD

Let the record show that: 1) If I am looking up fanfiction for Jacques le fataliste, it is only because DIDEROT TOLD ME TO. Or, rather, he was all "I DARE YOU TO DO BETTER Si vous n'êtes pas satisfait de ce que je vous révèle des amours de Jacques, lecteur, faites mieux, j'y consens." WHICH IS BASICALLY THE SAME THING.

2) "Tu es mon serviteur, quand je suis malade ou bien portant, et je suis le tien quand tu te portes mal." (p.118) ;LASKDJF;LASKDJFAS YOU GUYS WHY IS IT SO ~BROMANTIC ;ASLDKJFA;LSDF (There are other examples, but I am too lazy to type up a whole paragraph of French js.)

3)... THAT IS SOME NICE BROMANCE YOU'VE GOT GOIN' ON THERE, DIDEROT.

Jacques: Bonjour, ladies.
Look at your Maître. Now back to me. Now back à votre Maître. Et encore à moi. Malheureusement, il n'est pas moi. Mais s'il ne prendrait pas une prise de tabac en regardant l'heure qu'il est, he could act like he's me. Look down, back up. Where are you? You're camping in the French countryside with your Maître. What's on your mind? I have it! It's a history of the time I learned sex didn't have to be in the missionary position. Look again. The woman is now on top! Anything is possible si c'est écrit là-haut.
Son Maître: I'm on a horse.

SOMEDAY, I WILL ACCEPT THAT NO ONE APPRECIATES BUTCHERED FRANGLAIS OLD SPICE MEMES*. UNTIL THEN, YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO PUT UP WITH ME.

*Also, why have I not been able to find one for The Eagle? STEP IT UP, FANDOM. :D
LAST NIGHT WAS WHITE COLLAR NIGHT. WHICH MEANS I GET TO WATCH IT TODAY ;ALKSDFJA;LSDKJFAS. :DDDDDDDDDDDDD I am, however, glaring balefully (possibly soon to be Balefully, oho!) at the To-Do List of Gnarrgh, whose existence means I must Exercise Restraint and not watch it until tonight after dance.

BUT FIRST CAN I POST ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE MY ABNORMAL PSYC COURSE?? OH MY GOD. ;ADKLSFJA;LSKJASKT; Ok, mostly the prof - ok, he's only our temporary prof - but whatever, whatever, haters gonna rotate. So basically, there is this prof named Dr. Bowie. And just. He is so competent and knowledgeable and interesting AND AWESOME. Today, for example, part of our lecture consisted of a Skype conference with a participant in one of Dr. Bowie's research/treatment labs. Last class, a man who had undergone treatment for schizophrenia came in to talk to us about his experiences. This being an abnormal psychology course, IRL connections like that are awesome. But, you know, I'd be equally happy just listening to Bowie's lectures all day. ;alsdkfa IDK, he is so interesting, I just fangirl him so hard. It is a good thing anime expressions don't translate literally to real life, because then the HEARTS AND STARS IN MY EYES would actually be a bit mortifying.  I actually caught myself doing IRL *flailyhands* at the start of class today... whoops. >.>

IN CONCLUSION: AWESOME.

Now I've got to go roll up the Sleeves of Willpower and tackle my readings.
I'm totally studying right now, I swear... *shifty eyes*

Um. UM. Today was loooooooooong and booooooooring. *shoots smiley face into wall*
Cut to spare you my ridiculousness. For the record, yes, I do come up with these things while sober. No, I don't know what's wrong with my brain either. )

This is what I get for lack of sleep, FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF.

WHY DO I HAVE THESE CRAVINGS, I DO NOT KNOW. WHAT THE FUCK, SELF, WHAT THE FUCK.

*Is it bad that I based this off how I talk in everyday conversations? Maybe.
HELLO, STUDENTS.

LOOK AT YOUR ESSAY. NOW BACK TO THE CLOCK. NOW BACK TO YOUR ESSAY. NOW BACK TO THE CLOCK. SADLY, IT IS APPROACHING THREE IN THE MORNING. AND IF YOU KEEP UP POSTING RANDOMLY ON LJ, IT WILL BE FOUR AM BY THE TIME YOU'RE DONE.

SCROLL DOWN. BACK UP. WHERE ARE YOU? YOU'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF EDITING A PARAGRAPH ABOUT L'HONNETE HOMME DANS LA LITTERATURE CLASSIQUE. WHAT'S ON THE PAGE? I HAVE IT. IT'S A SENTENCE WITH VITAL CONTENT THAT YOU CAN'T FIND A PLACE FOR IN THE ENTIRE ESSAY.

LOOK AGAIN. YOUR ANXIETY IS NOW ADRENALINE. ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE ON FOUR HOURS OF SLEEP.

I NEED SOME COFFEE.

why does my life center around writing spoofs of internet memes ijdgi


Maybe if I am sleep-deprived as long as possible, it will hurt less when I get back my mark for this essay. :/ OTL.

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March 2017

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