An epiphany.

It must be written, for it is GENIUS.

I was making pancakes for lunch, today, at 3pm. It was a desperate attempt on my part to remain awake while I was studying for my Project Management final tomorrow. (Which.. if I continue to procrastinate any further, I will fail like I bombed BSYS on Tuesday, but I digress..)



My mind was wandering, as it tends to do.. considering the intricacies of the food I was about to consume, and the recipe needed to prepare it. The name, I've always considered to be an odd one. Pancakes. Cakes? They look nothing like cakes. Well. Maybe they'd be more like cakes in a stack. Maybe if they had a chocolatey, more actual cake-like batter...

And then, it became all too clear.

What if I did have a cake batter? What if I did cook it in a pan? Wouldn't I then have the means to make an absolutely awesome layered cake? Each individually cooked 'pancake', cut down to size, and stacked atop another with a thin layer of icing in between?

Oh. Oh yes.

And so I write it down.. because I cannot rely upon my memory anymore. Hopefully, I'll remember to come back and read this, later.

The television has begun to concern me, lately. It keeps telling me that I should be eating yogurt, having a baby, and getting married. I suppose this comes from the shallow glimpses I get of the glowing tube in between desperate attempts to keep my sanity, and textbook reading.

Maybe it doesn't help that I keep watching 'Slice', which is a channel dedicated to middle-aged women. A lot of the shows fascinate me.. but for reasons such as: I get glimpses into the lives of other people (Til Debt do us Part, Intervention, ect..).

But none the less.. with the more I watch, and the glimpses I get into other peoples' lives (Not all of which are in debt horribly or addicted to drugs), I realize just how fucked up my priorities are.

I have no intention to have a baby.

I have no intention to get married, even (which may come as a dull, painful surprise to Jason).

It seems that the things that other people value as important in their lives, such as getting married, having a family, filling their houses up with expensive televisions, cars, shoes, clothes, and fashionable furniture... they just don't do it for me.

When I look at my friends.. I see them doing the same things that I avoid. All of them. I consider the value they place on these actions, and I wonder why I don't have an inkling of desire to follow in their footsteps... and then I look back at myself and I wonder what I truly value out of life.

That's where I come up lacking. Major goals for me are having a nice job and making a lot of money. Buying a house I can be comfortable in, that has a big yard so I can have a garden. Making wine, and having a cellar. Ballroom dancing. Throwing fancy tea parties, and playing video games...

All these selfish things that I want for myself are so goddamned simple.. they're things people give up to spend 15,000$ to get married, or the huge dollar sign/responsibility drain that children take up.

I wonder why my priorities are so petty. Is there something wrong with me?

So strange.

I like to consider myself to be...confident. I have a high level of self esteem, and generally consider myself capable of anything I want, provided I can work up the urge to get my ass off of my couch and accomplish something. But bypassing my ego, and my narsicism, and beyond all the arrogance that I display to people around me, I'm realistic.

I know that there has to be limitations to my.. amazingness. I understand that despite what I might want, I'm merely human, and thusly a creature of flaws, despite the fact that I would hardly admit such to anyone's face.

I've begun to doubt myself. Not in a way that's an emo cry for help, or an internet scream for attention.. but in my memory. I've noticed that as I occupy my mind with lists of tasks I must complete, and the overwhelming inflow of knowledge that I am sucking from textbooks, my capability to remember things has gone by the wayside.

Now, that's not to suggest that I forget important things, like where I live, or how many hookers I have tied up in the basement, but more like things like: yesterday was my father's 60th birthday. Or that I should have made reservations for equipment for a presentation.

I find it interesting that things I would not normally 'misplace' on my priority list somehow seem to fall off while I'm not looking, simply because I have so much other crap to worry about.

Don't worry. After I woke up in a cold sweat, I called my Father and informed him that I am the worst daughter ever. <3

Time to breathe..

It's over. Well. For a week, or so. I have no more quizzes, tests, or huge assignments to worry about until the week after next. The disturbing thing, is knowing that I should use this time to catch up on my homework, now..But I can hardly bring up the energy to think straight.

I wanted to RP last night. I honestly, honestly did. But when I logged onto IRC, which used to be my most favorite place in the world, I could hardly muster up the energy to look at other peoples' text, let alone write something of my own.

But then again, I still had my head in the clouds.

I ended up going to bed at 9pm. If this keeps up, I'm going to seriously need to reconsider how I can be creative.

And now, a word from our sponsor:

Taking a break. Not that I can really afford it, mind you. The endless number of supply curves and rising and falling marginal utility numbers begs for my attention span, which honestly is nil.


I've been far too worked up, lately.

I'm hooked on energy drinks, again. Tea just doesn't do it for me when I have no time, and way too much cramming to do. I have a feeling I'm going to want to crash on Wednesday, and I am not even allowing myself that minimal pleasure.

No time for my old antics. I can't even remember how to RP anymore, let alone sum up the brainpower to do it. I've resorted to trolling 4chan for hentai lately to help feed my thirst for fucked up plotlines. Thankfully, 4chan always delivers. God bless the internets.

But, I guess that's what hard work's all about. Speaking of which; break's over. Back into this shit.

Dead as my body was, I was often fascinated by the twitch of my cock when I heard her hiss at me, like that. Struck dumb by how swiftly the line went dead, it took me a few moments to gather my thoughts enough to hang the hotel telephone back upon the hook.

Turning, I focused on the eyes upon me, as was expected after such an interruption. Annoyed by the stunned stare of the neonate apprentice as she gaped at the slowly growing tent within my robes, I lashed out.

"Snuff that candle before you set the whole goddamned room on fire."

I moved past her, stepping carefully over the intricate markings of salt that marked the floor where the carpet had been ripped free of the room. The summoning of Sponge Bob Squarepants would undoubtedly have to wait. The thought was sour upon my mind as I began to rummage within my suitcase for where I'd tucked my own cell phone. Taking it into hand, I dialed a number, and waited.

"Come on, Jezebel.. Pick up."

Quiet.. but only for so long. Sometimes, the rageful outbursts from my gun only gave way to the howling screams of a man who'd lost his testicles. Of course, that was always far more barable to endure than his mocking laughter.

I turned to look behind me, expecting to see his putrid face twisted with glee and mirth, but there was nothing. Just the sound of his voice. My teeth could shatter, for how hard I clenched them.

The night had started so well, too.

I forced myself to look at the ground as I began to walk... knowing in my mind where I should be headed, but making no conscious effort to move in any kind of direction. It was not that I was relying on a skill to find my way to where my answers were.. but I had faith that eventually I would stumble across something familiar.

The buzzing of my phone jiggled against my breast after a few moments, and as I passed by a coffee shop that was just flicking it's lights on to begin the day, I considered simply letting it ring. Even as my thumb slid against the slick, vitae stained plastic.