Damn. The week draws to a close. Caoimhin will be here on Tuesday, the 21st. I'm ecstatic to see him. Maybe we'll get some substantial talking in this time. Last time, I think we might have said a grand total of twelve complex sentences. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but a rather whimsical thing upon which to place a long distance relationship. Why do I feel as though my intellect is given to the humors of God or the powers that be? Why can't it shine magnificently in the faces of people who either wield power or would appreciate it appropriately? Perhaps it's because I, in turn, wield delusions of grandeur, but I suppose that's what keeps us psychos up and running, hm? I got absolutely NOTHING done this weekend, other than the gratuitous 20$ of tips from work. (Along with a slightly deflated, but very welcome paycheck.) I'm thinking I should start saving my tips in the bank along with my paychecks so I can resist the temptation to spend the extra buck on New Squishy Salty Can-Opening M&M's or Skittles or whatever new confection hits the market. I'm going to bed. I'm blathering. I read a really funny line today. (Caoimhin has just signed in; it appears as though my bed plans are foiled.) Anyways. It was: "My body is like a house, and I can hear different doors slamming." Sounds poetic? Well, it refers to a bout of flatulence induced by post-marijuana munchies. I was highly, highly amused. Caoimhin is not responding. Sister is screaming indignantly at me. I am off.
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Man. I'm loving on my new roll of film. I just developed a roll of 50 speed. And again, for the less photographically inclined, 50 speed requires more light, but has an infinitely finer grain (better quality prints). Unfortunately, I have a dust problem, which results in me becoming absolutely infuriated and inconsolable for spurts of about twenty minutes. And I'm getting sick and pissed at all the ridiculous and obnoxious freshmen in that class. Why the hell, tell me, would you take such a kick-ass class so you can lounge around on the desks, chase your friends around with the chemicals, or become whiny, rude, insistent, or bored? What the hell is FBLA for? (Future Business Leaders of America.) And I'm getting sick of everyone complaining about the damn teacher. Jesus. Transfer out. No one is stopping you. I had a really good practice today. I feel like I tried hard, and wrestled well. No wussing out or anything. And I'm trying this diet thing. According to post-practice weigh-in, I've gained 1/2 of a pound. So I'm going to stick this out for another week or so, and if I keep GAINING as opposed to LOSING, I'm opting for something else. Going to go clean and stuff. Bon nuit, world. |
Practice is getting better and better every day. I'm feeling good about the season. I've achieved a nice peace-of-mind, I think. And also, there aren't all the hard-ass seniors from last year "Mr. Intimidation" and say, dinner-wretching pill popping "Mr. Smooth." That's not to say I don't miss those guys. Oh, I do, horribly. But still. Next year will be kick ass, when I'm a senior. I have tried to start "eating right." I'm kicking things off by devouring a huge carton of Chinese food. Just went out and power-grocered through Fred Meyers and Larry's Market, respectively. On the grocery list: avacadoes, bell peppers, almond flavored tofu (NOT as gross as it sounds), kamaboko (fish cake, also not as gross as it sounds) grapes, yogurt, two melons, Balance Bars, cheese...apparently, wrestlers need to eat more fat in order to lose weight. I'm skeptical, but willing to give it a chance. You're supposed to balance it into thirds: 1/3 Protein, 1/3 Fat, and 1/3 Carbohydrates. And I'm supposed to eat a Balance Bar before bed every night. Hm. I only have to drop four pounds to make weight, which is better than most of my male counterparts, but unlike them, weight is a good goddamn deal harder for me to lose. And the first place they lose it from is NOT their boobs. Haven't heard from Caoimhin recently. God damn if I don't miss him. I think perhaps if I don't talk to him in a couple days, I'm going to give him a call. Friday night, probably. I don't work Saturday this weekend, so I have to decide what to do with my day...actually, it's not WHAT I'm going to do, it's WHERE I'm going to take the pictures. Hm...this calls for some speculation. Interesting. (Cliff note: Moonhuck takes drivers test on Friday. Will be sure to stay out of passenger seat for a while.) Well, I'm moseying right along. It's onto History homework and a nice, juicy Balance Bar for me. Good night, world.
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Whew. Well, I'm broken into the season now, somewhat, so practice wasn't much of a mind-trip today as it was yesterday...maybe because we didn't run at all. Who knows. Nothing interesting happening...I'm missing Caoimhin like nothing ever before. I'm tired as fuck. I'm going to go to bed now. Goodnight, world. |
I am going to go and bathe. Then I am going to go to sleep. And I'm going to wake up in a state which will necessitate me being scraped off of the wall with a humongous spatula. I feel like a sack of adhesive goo. I had wrestling practice today. First. It was interesting. But it may not be as hellish as anticipated. Because, you see, I was anticipating the bad things, only. And there are some good things. Like the millions of miles we run every day. And the freshmen...freshmen as far as the eye can see. But I'm guessing a good thirty five won't show up tomorrow. I had kendo tonight as well. So I'm flattened. I'm going to go overstimulate myself with a hot shower. It's much needed. The plastic flowers wilted as I walked in the door. |