Another week, another weekend that follows. This one was the last one I'll be going home for before the year's over and I get to undertake the wonderful task of entering the workforce yet again, making me forget that school even exists until I have to haul my crap out of the kitchen and a hundred miles north again. This time, I am halfway done. Hopefully. We'll have to see.
I went to see my sister in a play this weekend with the same program in the same theatre I practically grew up in, but this time with the younger siblings of people I knew performing and me paying admission. That's the first time I've ever gone to an Apprentice performance as part of the audience, and I have to say that despite the strange sensation of being on the other side of the fishbowl for once, it wasn't as droolingly bad as I'd thought. It wasn't bad at all, especially considering the play was "Seussical" (??) and most of the kids had never been taught how to sing onstage. My sister gave me some pains, though, not from a bad performance but from the ridiculously overexaggerated facial expressions she wore. Every time I see those looks normally, it usually means she's about to burn something or attack someone with her teeth. Pretty easy to see why I cringed. I keep telling her that it's really not a good idea to follow in my footsteps considering where they led me, but she doesn't listen. Not much I can do about it, I suppose. At least she quit smoking and hasn't had anyone call the police on our parents yet.
We later rented House of Flying Daggers, and Evil Dead parts one and two. I was formerly ashamed to say I'd never seen the Evil Dead movies, but no longer! Bunnyman tried to get to the bottom of my zombie obsession (why does everyone always seek explanation?), and several dirty moments later, we managed to conclude that Bruce Campbell chopping people up with a chainsaw hand makes me, ehm, excited, but we really have no explanation why. I don't find him, or zombies for that matter, particularly fetish-worthy. I think Bunnyman was just looking for excuses. House of Flying Daggers is awesome, by the way.
And one of my German professors managed to find Bunnyman's cell phone number and called a very groggy me at 11 am in Elkins to discuss the presentation she's been harassing me about for the past week. I wonder how many people she called to find that number out... Not that it's a difficult one. Maybe she used some kind of crazy German deduction technique that I've yet to develop. Nontheless, it was very strange. Professors should not stalk me. Weirdness abounds...
What can you really do when the sun's up and you still can't sleep? The brain keeps on ticking away... Just one more hopeless thing to add to a whole list of hopeless things that, somehow, usually end up being resolved. Doesn't keep me from annotating and worrying about them, compiling lists which in turn contribute to the reason I can't sleep. Sometimes you can't win...
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