I have had it with these motherfuckin projects in this motherfuckin school. That is all. 

I am quite for projects. I do not mind them in the least when I have one or two at a time. But when every class one has is assigning these big honkin projects and one begins longing for bookwork, worksheets, and notes, I feel something might be amiss. I cannot design 3 page layouts, 34 thumbnails for 2 different projects while re-designing a 3rd and 4th,  study the mating habits of college co-eds, and retain sanity. I just can't.

Also, this is interfering with my writing time. Bad enough to deny me the luxury of theater, movies, dancing, drinking, socializing, and otherwise enjoying my youth, now the professors conspire to deny my the closeted-in-the-room with a notebook and a laptop time. The voices in my head The characters are going away! My punctuation and grammar is going straight to the land of Laurell Hamilton.  I'm getting out of practice. I'm losing my ability. I'll be reduced to painful Stus and angsty Sues if they keep this up...Worse, they'll be ill-presented by awkward text. Sob. 

School is ruining my future career, I tell you. Which just goes to show I should have majored in something that involved writing. Or Recreation. ... Really, I suddenly cannot fathom why I am not studying Recreation. ... That's it. I'm giving up school and forming a cult... It shall be a cult of... flowers. And writing. Painting. Poetry. We shall be hippies. But not the murderous Manson kind. And we so are not being socialists because poison kool-aide is so 1970s. And I am not dying for a cosmic ride on a comet ship. 

Damnation. I shall make a very bad cult leader. Perhaps I should call it a commune leader? A nice tropical island, lots of rum and poetry and writing, and everyone dressed like pirates and hippies. ... I suppose I ought to throw in some nice nature worship and dolphins as divine messengers... 

But our downfall will be the fact that everyone can only be a nancing hippie pirate poet/writer/singer/artist boehemian for so long before you all go mad and join the corporate world. We'd be 1982 all over again. ... With shoulderpads even. 

I'm random. I know this. Now back to Mirrormask...

Stephanie: *is dippy* 
Ranger: *is hawt* 
Morelli: *is hot* 
Stephanie: *is sooo confused* 
Shit: *goes down* 
Stephanie's family: *is zany* 
Mystery: *is madcap* 
Cars: *go 'splodey* 
Stephanie: *is lost* 
Morelli: *is annoyed*
Villain: *is dumb/obsessed with Stephanie* 
Ranger: *is badass* 
Stephanie: *is saved* 
Ranger: *is reaaaallly freakin' hawt* 

There. You have now read Every Single Book. 

Vanity: *just picked up Book 11 in book store. skimmed book. realized she had read better fan fiction. put book down*

Things that would make the Plumverse interesting again:

1. Stephanie actually made a decision. About anything. And stuck to it for longer than five minutes.
2. Joe dumped Stephanie. And meant it.
3. Ranger stopped answering Stephanie's calls. And meant it.
4. There was a villain with brains.
5. Stephanie didn't have Ranger, Joe, or a family member or deus ex machina to save her.
6. Someone actually changed/grew up/got a job/got clean/moved on/moved away. Just once.
7. Stephanie got a clue and some survival instincts.

Sadly, I know none of those will ever happen. That's why I have new fandoms. But I don't think I'll ever quit pining for my fandoms of what-could-have-been. Stephanie actually stepping up to the plate and getting a backbone will be one of my happiest what-if scenarios. Right up there with someone taking Laurell Hamilton's smut-pen away from her and making her focus on the Sidhe politics in the Gentry series. 

Ooh, and I just started a manga. I know. I KNOW!  A manga. It's called The Vampire game, by Judal... and I think I'm in love. Eeee! New fluffy obsession!

Yeah, I use Vanity or Disdain. I have an identity crisis. And an ego. But at least my eyes are not yet urple. 

So, I should totally be off studying for my mid term. ... But I'm not feeling it. Instead I'm typing useless stuff in my fandom-ranting blog about real life stuff. Why? Because I can. 

So, this weekend is nuts. It's Homecoming. Our football deam is doing awesomely so the parties are intense. They kick off tomorrow (Thursday) actually. I'll be in my mid-term then running home, changing and going out to bar hop. And I cannot decide what to wear! 

All right.. do I wear: 
 A) a miniskirt, boots, a sleeveless/halter top? (mind you, it's pretty chilly this week)
 B) Jeans, strappy sandals, halter top? 
 C) a miniskirt, this cute light sweater thing, and boots or sandals?  

And my hair! Do I wear it straight? Tousled and wavy? 
Makeup! Smoky eyes? Wine-stained lips? Aaahh! Choices! 

I have to have 3 nights of party clothes planned. 
Thursday: Mid-Term. Dance-Floor Bar. Who knows where else? 
Friday: Sleep in. Study maybe. Marie Antoinette (with alcohol because our movie theater rocks like that). Party. Possibly bars. Anything goes.
Saturday: Alcoholic Breakfast Ritual (don't ask). Game. Party. Bars. Who knows what else?
Sunday: Recouperate. Study for large test that's on Monday Morning because my teacher is evil. 

Oh, and let's add dramatic interest: in aforfementioned schedule I won't be in my room at all because the roomate will be having male company and I don't want to deal with that. So I'll be staying Elsewhere. Possibly at the apartment of the Guy Friends (one of whom is wanting to 'go on a date'... holy handgrenades of Antioch, please let it be phase... ) 

And of course, the End-of-Summer Fling called and talked and he "might come up" for it. And could I get a ticket for him? Um.. it's already sold out... But sure. Why not? Except of course that that will mean um.. oh who cares? I'll let him have my bed. In the room with the roommate and her boy. heh. He's cool and about 700 times bigger than RM's Significant Other. 

Then there's the Friend Who's Taken and Looks Eerily Like My Ex but who I keep flirting with and hell if I can stop. Seriously. I am trying desperately not to and it's almost working and then it doesn't. But oh well. He's a flirt. And it's purely eye and conversation flirting. So I guess it's okay so long as no one gets drunk and stupid. ... 

I just have to remember for the entire weekend: Don't Kiss Anyone out of Boredom. Just grab some more alcohol. Or go dance on the bar like a normal girl. 

No. Seriously. I have this problem. I am drinking. We're partying. More alcohol flows. And then the conversation is boring or the music sucks or everyone decides let's leave the club and go somewhere quiet... and I HATE THAT. I have the attention span of a crack-addicted ADHD may fly when I'm drunk. I can't follow some stupid movie plot. And people just -sit there- when we could be up dancing and.. and... they're just sitting there! There are parties somewhere! Worlds to conquor! Men to seduce! Hell, women to seduce! Adventures to be had! ... oh screw it. And I start making out with someone. Because it's moderately more entertaining than grabbing another drink. 

Sigh.

So I have no idea where I was going with this. And I'm sure you think I'm some OC type now. ... Really life isn't this party-tastic in general. Just some days. And what really sucks? Is that Sunday, hung over as all hell, I'm going to have to sort out my D&D character for a friends' new game.