Today's FIC update...

For those of you just dying for the next chapter, sorry. I started it, but all my prime writing time this week has been devoted to reading about Loyalists until I'm too tired to do anything but stare at the X-Files with glazed over eyes.

Mmmmmmm. Last night's ep was the one where they go up to the "top of the world" and there's the warm thing that infects its hosts and makes them aggressive, and they think Mulder is infected and they lock him in the room and he's all hot and angry (mmmmmmmm) and then Scully comes in and says "Why didn't you let us examine you?" and he said "I would have but you pulled a gun on me! I don't trust them, but I want to trust you."

Mmmmmmmmmmmm.

Oh so anyway, I have no idea when I'm going to finish this chapter. Not tonight, certainly. Not tomorrow night. Probably not Friday night. Definitely not Saturday. Maybe you'll get a two-fer late Sunday night? It's my own stupid fault for not getting caught up with shit over Spring break. Now I've got to pay for that.

Prof Flakey watch continues.

OH! on the bright side, I get my money today!!!! WOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm so going to buy a new mattress this weekend.

I need an X-Files icon...

I'm in a dark mood.

Like, biting my tongue to keep from biting people's heads off mood. I'm fucking tired. I'm fucking annoyed.

Still nothing from Prof. Flakey. My boss confirms that she really did have a family crisis, but didn't get a chance to give me the details? You know what? I don't give a fuck what her excuse is. Because of this fucking shit, best case scenario, I'll be able to start writing my screenplay in the first week of May.

Fuck. This. FUcking. Shit.

So I go to my Italy meeting. $150 next week. $250 the week after. That's what I owe. Non-refundable deposits. No problem, because I'm getting my loan refund this week. I know a guy who knows a guy, so I know that by Friday, at the latest, i should have my check. WEE!

I go to pick it up today and it's not there. In fact, I owe $800. WHA?!?!?!! No, I don't owe money. See the part where they owe me $4000? "Well I don't know what the problem is. Go to Financial Aid." So I go to Financial Aid and they tell me they don't know what the problem is either. Who does know? Some guy, but he's not in the office. Maybe he can check it out tomorrow.

If I don't have this money, I can't afford the deposits. Period. If I can't give him the checks, I dont' go.

Just the thought literally brings tears to my eyes.

Maybe they can fix this and I'll get the check by next week. Maybe. But I'm not counting on it.

After my Italy meeting I go across the street to the coffee shop and have an Italian Soda and try to work on my poetry HW. I have a test tomorrow. I need to studdy. So about 20 of the most obnoxious twats I have ever seen sit right next to me and speak very loudly in several different languages and laugh very loudly and in general act like they're the only people in the world. Did I have a right to semi-quiet place? I guess not. I wasn't at the library after all. But why do people act like they're in the privacy of their own home when they go out in public?

I hate them.

Apparently I have all my GEs taken care of, according to one of my advisors. That's something.

Apparently I have a test next Wednesday. But he pushed the due date for the essay back to April 30th. So that's something.

Angel starts in 40 minutes. That's something.

And jaime wants to know why I'm in a pissy mood. Apparently if I'm not smiling constantly he has to take it personally. Like, nothing happened to me all day until an hour ago when I saw him and then all of a sudden, I got upset. So he has the right to huff around the house and sigh and generally act like I'm doing something wrong.

I want to write, but I just don't have the time or the patience. I'm so overwhelmed and tired right now that I can't stand it, and I've only been back from spring break for 3 days. I'm having anxiety attacks over the goddamned meeting on Friday, and the more I think about it, the worse it gets.

A bit better...

I had a margarita and a chocolat donut and watched Angel.

I love my yammy boys. My wonderful, yammy boys. *sigh* I didn't think this much love was impossible. I decided Gunn counts in the "my yammy boys" category.

Love, love, love.

Love.