I'm forcing myself to write something here, imagining the gun being pressed against my forehead, the cold metal providing a gentle incentive to get something down, anything!
Sooo. How's your week been? You don't have to answer that because, even though I haven't been putting down anything myself, I have been watching you all from the dark, cobwebbed corner of the internets, where I'm slowly building an eldritch, jumbled nest for myself.
School is going. I'm beavering away on a research/conceptual assignment that I have an oral presentation/defense for at the end of the week. The presentation doesn't phase me at all; I have no fear of speaking in public (though I do, like 99% of all males*, check my zip before going on stage), so my main focus is impressing the tutors with big words like 'intertextuality', 'postmodernist paradigms' and 'banana'.
Everything else is... ehh. I dunno. I don't think I'm happy with myself in some ways. I'm in the process of deciding what those aspects are, so I'll get back to you or else you'll hear about the ensuing fallout on the 6pm news. Sometimes I think I'm just one whine away from leaping up and being disgustingly proactive and cutting my hair and blowing everyone away with all these huge changes, and then I think maybe what I really want is another cup of tea instead.
* The other 1% aren't wearing pants in the first place
