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?)
;askdlfa;da

I don't care that he's being sarcastic; this comment from my brother on facebook is the best thing in my life right now:
"Your coolness is immeasurable."

I AM FULL OF FEELINGS~
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.
Exams: 3/5*

Dear body:

WHAT WHAT WHAT ARE YOU DOING. Stop dying on me! Exams aren't done yet, you cannot keep collapsing all over the place halfway through the day. I require the ability to complete sentences until Thursday at 5pm! I have to study like a mofo for French and Biopsyc, and that is dependent upon your ability to continuously maintain adequate muscle tension and to actually concentrate for more than 30 seconds at a time! This zoning out business has got to stop.

No love,
Sarah

a;sdlfjasdklf I am going to fail all the things. I am panicking now, but I cannot concentrate enough to study, which is new and unsettling. Thoughts start forming in my mind and then before I can complete them, they get obscured by white noise. So dumb.

As long as I can make it til Thursday, all will be forgiven.

*Exams I have a shot at passing: 0/5

PHOTO POST

Mar. 20th, 2011 11:05 pm
BECAUSE PRODUCTIVITY IS FOR N00BS.

Below the cut: my partial costume for our Videodance number, which is choreographed to a Lady Gaga mashup (Bad Romance, Alejandro, Just Dance). Uh, warnings for derpy photos and me wearing revealing clothing? If this offends anyone, I apologize in advance!
Image-heavy-ish! Also, again, I'm wearing kind of saucy clothing? IDK, IT'S GAGA!  )

I feel really weird posting this, but I'm really excited for recital, and I've never bedazzled a sports bra done my own costume before.
Things My French Prof Talks About: a) the multiple stories within Jacques le fataliste, b) the quarrels, setbacks and conflicts that surrounded Diderot's work on L'Encyclopédie of 1751-72.

What I Choose To Do With That Knowledge: This. Posted a while ago on tumblr, but on here for posterity, because if you're looking for my stupid, you should be able to find it all in one place.

Not to mention, the following, being a ridiculous, completely historically inaccurate thing I wrote down while I should have been paying attention to a discussion about theater or something.

(Just going to preface the cut with the disclaimer that a) I know nothing about screenwriting; b)SO MUCH HISTORICAL INACCURACY because I can't be bothered to look up dates for these events; c) this is, actually, the most random thing EVER, sorry.)
d) franglais is totally an official language, wtf are you talking about? )

...I also wrote something down about a prompt for a prison!au-thing, based on Rousseau visiting Diderot while he was in prison* (and Diderot possibly subsequently influencing EVERYTHING ROUSSEAU DID, EVER (if you ask my prof)), but I think that will have to wait until I find the magical place where a kink meme for 18th century French writers/philosophes actually, y'know, exists.

*I live in fear of the day anyone asks to borrow my french notes. "What's this?" "Oh, that's, um. Just a bit of porn I wrote about Diderot getting it on with Voltaire. NBD."

ETA: Oh my GOD, dear flist D,,,,:  *HUGS*
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
LOOOOOOOOOOOOOL BRB FAILING AT LIFE FOREVER~ FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF WORST INTERVIEW OF LIIIIIFFFFEEEEEEEEEEE OMG WHY AM I ALLOWED TO GO ON EXISTING, I DONUT GET IT.

*headdesk forever*
OH... MY... GOD.

I'M PUTTING A HIT OUT ON TODAY. I SWEAR TO GOD, I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL SOMETHING. SOMUCHRAGE. (And all over the internet, too; dear Twitter feed, you are more than I deserve).
Take: 1 hormonal teenager, 1 biopsyc midterm, 6 hours of sleep, 1 toaster, 1 irresponsible housemate. Put through blender. Makes OVER NINE THOUSAND servings of teen angst. )
Well, that was an eventful weekend! Not all in good ways, unfortunately, but c'est la vie. To be fair, everything but the ending was fantastic.

#OHDEER )

I'm trying really hard not to freak out about things, but I had my day planned out today, and I'm really fucking pissed at the money, and I feel awful cause all I've done this weekend is eat like a fucking pig and just. Fuck.

But for the most part, the weekend was awesome, and it was really nice to see Fatima and meet her housemates and everything. So. I'm glad I got to go.

***

ETA: I am back from work, and semi-caught up with my study schedule. It'll have to do.

ETA2: OH FUCK ME SIDEWAYS, I JUST REALIZED I STILL HAVE NOWHERE TO LIVE NEXT YEAR A;SDLFKA;SK FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU ok that's it, kicking myself off the internet before I actually go crazy.
On a note of Well, That's Just Dumb, I still feel slightly drunk. With a German quiz in an hour. Yesssssssss.

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