bending_sickle | Aún me parece mentira que se escape mi vida*

Life: So I'm at work (or whatever it's called when you're working on something studenty and not getting paid and therefore being a disappointment to all). I'm alternatively bashing my head against Access and procrastinating, although both tasks currently contain Epic Fail. Working on this program always makes me very wibbley because it's so frustrating and it makes me feel so, so stupid to boot. Also, if the professor's busy, I'm hung out to dry because there's only so much searching, googling and random-button-pressing before you throw your hands up in the air and give up in the face of Access' cryptic ways.

And the wibble just continues from yesterday, where I got home, lay down on the bed and wept for half an hour for reasons I have yet to understand. I don't even know, guys. Fuck. Who want's a pair of ovaries, going cheap? Guaranteed to keep your eyes extra-moist for one week out of every four.

Then I called Ma, because she'd left me a message the day before complaining on how she hadn't heard from me in ages and all that. The conversation went majestically shittily for the longest time, because my mom was tired and therefore rambled on and on about random complaints, and my dad was there, so they bickered whilst I waited on the phone.

Then mom railed on me about not having put in the effort of finding a job whilst working on my thesis - "One year! One year and a half! Are you ever going to finish?" - and whether I was planning on simply doing this for the rest of my life, which meant doing nothing, because of course, when money grows on trees, life's fucking dandy. (Sarcasm, my mom has it.)

But then I explained how my friends (numbers greatly exagerated because I fail) think she's insane for thinking I can be working on the thesis full time and job hunting at the same time. I mean, seriously!

I explained that I stop working when they kick me out of the building (6 or 6:30), leaving out the fact that because I suck so much I can barely get in any decent work in the morning. I explained how this mean that I got home around 7, then there's working out (not this month, though, because I will kick Nanowrimo in the ass, if nothing else) and dinner and before you know it it's 9 pm and I haven't had a moment for myself. ("For yourself?!? What the hell is your thesis? Isn't that for yourself?") If I were a decent human being I'd go to bed early in order to function the next day, but that leaves me with only 1 or 2 hours of time to do anything that isn't thesis- or basic-human-functions-related, so you'll have to excuse me if I occasionally stay up late. (Although staying up until 2 am isn't good, and I've been doing it too often these past weeks.)

So eventually she understood that my day's pretty fucking stocked.

Then I don't even remember, but there was more bickering and snide comments and sarcasm and me feeling like I'm worth shite and a burden and a disappointment and would it kill my mother to say at one point, "Good job!" instead of, "That's nice, but what about this and this and this?"

Then I stayed writing Nano and procrastinating, or procrastinating and attempting to write Nano, at which I failed spectacularly, and finally at 2 am I thought I ought to go to sleep. Which means that today's morning pretty much went out the window. *sigh* Fucking hormones of woe.

And I had the weirdest dream ever, in that I may just be scarred for life. Gah. It starts of nicely, me and previous-crush (ye of the brains, not the sarcasm) are touristing about Rome as a couple and this Italian lady asks us for directions, at which I fail. Then we're in a room and it's all happy snuggles and then vague random walking about the room and then he morphs into my dad and I'm all "Dad! Oh, Dad, I forgot I loved you! 'Cause I do!" and deep inside dream-me there's some major dream-flailing and Do Not Want.

(Which obviously means what I know already to be true: I can't stand my dad but somewhere deep inside I still love him because...I don't even know, childhood-yay maybe, but I totally resent him because he sucks as a dad. He just...he doesn't count, I guess, or try to care or anything. Why can't I have parents instead of genetic predecessors?!?)

Alright, let's check if the professor's free again, so I can ask stupidly obvious Access questions. I'm a moron, dur hur. *sigh*

Fuck this, I'm going to raise sheep in Australia.

Video of the Day: "Bohemian Rhapsody", The Muppets

Links of the Day:

Supernatural: