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So, you'd think, since I'm dieting and everything and that I've told my family repeatedly that I need to take care of my body that they'd let me work out, right?
Right?
Bzzzzt.
I'm sorry, but no, that isn't true. Instead, I try to work out in the only space in the entire freakin' house and noooo...they have to watch Survivor. Nevermind that they have a fucking TV in their room. Nevermind my room is stuffed with half of my sister's belongings, as she's getting her room redone. My mom, my wonderful, wonderful mother, tells me to go upstairs.
I tell her there's no space.
She tells me that my room's always messy anyway.
Okay...but why the fuck did you tell me to work out in my room? Are you just trying to be a bitch?
Well, I then called her a bitch. In front of my seven year old sister. My mom whined to my dad, and, since he hates it when she whines, yelled at me for calling her a bitch.
I promptly ran up the stairs screaming, telling them I hope I weigh 300 pounds and other childish rants.
Okay, my workout consists of dancing. Hard dancing, jazz and merengue. Stuff that makes me lie down on the floor, catching my breath. I've never been athletic and dancing's one of the things I can do well. And the only space in the house with enough space is downstairs.
Looks like I'm doing sit ups tonight.
School related matters. So...I'm extremely tired. I spent all last night on a research paper, writing up notes and the rough draft. And since I had a break, I planned to finish the paper during that time.
I put my disk into the drive. And then "do you want the disk to be formatted?" Whaaaa? No! So, for 45 minutes, Helpful Lady at the computer lab was scanning my disk and fixing the errors, whilst I panicked and worried that I wouldn't be able to hand in my paper on time.
Fortunately, everything came out okay. Thank God. I have two classes with that prof and he had talked to me before about how I felt about my paper.
And since I'm not about to say, "I don't know yet, it's not done!" I smiled and told him that it was hard, but I hoped it was decent. Which is sorta true.
I haven't watch BtVS yet. I don't have any desire to do. I don't know why, I've heard it's good.
Perhaps...because nothing's happened for the past five or six episodes. If it came (okay, I watched bits and pieces during AI commericials, *g*) after several plotty and in-depth episodes, maybe I'd be more excited.
It's okay. Farscape is going to kick all kinds of ass. I'm not going to worry about BtVS.
I'm trying to write the FS fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gatorjen (gives GJ a hug. just because) but it's kind of sucking. Meanwhile, I have an idea for a creepy Lana (of Smallville. Yes I know. I'm sick. And sad) fic called Alma redemptoris, inspired by one of the Canterbury Tales. It's a bit of an obscure reference, but hey, who says I ever make sense?
This weekend, sleeping is my #1 priority.
And...sigh...writing.
Right?
Bzzzzt.
I'm sorry, but no, that isn't true. Instead, I try to work out in the only space in the entire freakin' house and noooo...they have to watch Survivor. Nevermind that they have a fucking TV in their room. Nevermind my room is stuffed with half of my sister's belongings, as she's getting her room redone. My mom, my wonderful, wonderful mother, tells me to go upstairs.
I tell her there's no space.
She tells me that my room's always messy anyway.
Okay...but why the fuck did you tell me to work out in my room? Are you just trying to be a bitch?
Well, I then called her a bitch. In front of my seven year old sister. My mom whined to my dad, and, since he hates it when she whines, yelled at me for calling her a bitch.
I promptly ran up the stairs screaming, telling them I hope I weigh 300 pounds and other childish rants.
Okay, my workout consists of dancing. Hard dancing, jazz and merengue. Stuff that makes me lie down on the floor, catching my breath. I've never been athletic and dancing's one of the things I can do well. And the only space in the house with enough space is downstairs.
Looks like I'm doing sit ups tonight.
School related matters. So...I'm extremely tired. I spent all last night on a research paper, writing up notes and the rough draft. And since I had a break, I planned to finish the paper during that time.
I put my disk into the drive. And then "do you want the disk to be formatted?" Whaaaa? No! So, for 45 minutes, Helpful Lady at the computer lab was scanning my disk and fixing the errors, whilst I panicked and worried that I wouldn't be able to hand in my paper on time.
Fortunately, everything came out okay. Thank God. I have two classes with that prof and he had talked to me before about how I felt about my paper.
And since I'm not about to say, "I don't know yet, it's not done!" I smiled and told him that it was hard, but I hoped it was decent. Which is sorta true.
I haven't watch BtVS yet. I don't have any desire to do. I don't know why, I've heard it's good.
Perhaps...because nothing's happened for the past five or six episodes. If it came (okay, I watched bits and pieces during AI commericials, *g*) after several plotty and in-depth episodes, maybe I'd be more excited.
It's okay. Farscape is going to kick all kinds of ass. I'm not going to worry about BtVS.
I'm trying to write the FS fic for
gatorjen (gives GJ a hug. just because) but it's kind of sucking. Meanwhile, I have an idea for a creepy Lana (of Smallville. Yes I know. I'm sick. And sad) fic called Alma redemptoris, inspired by one of the Canterbury Tales. It's a bit of an obscure reference, but hey, who says I ever make sense?This weekend, sleeping is my #1 priority.
And...sigh...writing.
