After a hellish week filled with drama, synopses, nearly being run over, stress galore, migraines, hurt feelings and blowouts with teachers, I can finally announce that a) I am now on vacation, and b) I can fit into my jeans again. The latter means just as much to me, by the way.

Vacation life is treating me well. I woke up at 11:30am, completely rested. I like my biological clock better than my alarm clock. It’s much kinder to me.

Today’s accomplishments:

• I played Backgammon for the first time, and WON! TWICE!
• I used my juicer for the first time in half a year and had freshly-squeezed apple-carrot-juice. It did not taste very good, but I felt very much like a part of the health-oriented surplus-in-energy-always community.
• Washing the juicer afterwards also counts as an accomplishment. Holy shit, that thing has like ten parts to it and it took me three times as long to clean it than it did to make the juice/drink it.
• I managed to eat healthy all day. Kinda need to after eating fifteen toffifees last night.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, my eyes are about to fall out of my head.

I have been sitting in front of the computer for the past seven hours, working on a synopsis that has to be turned in tomorrow that I should have started on a loooong time ago. I have said it before and I have said it again: I hate synopses. And excerpts.

I hate thesis statements and research questions and all of that bullshit. I hate it. I suck at it, and that is why I hate it. Or maybe I suck at it because I hate it. It’s almost like the chicken and the egg. Alright, this is getting too deep for me at 12:13 am on a school night. My brain won’t allow me to reflect very deeply on anything right now, so I will skip subtly on to something else.

I failed my Math-midterm. That’s right. I have never failed a midterm before in the history of my existence, and I have a feeling I should be more mortified than I am. I mean, I don’t like it, but I am not shaking and crying, either. I feel strangely apathetic, actually. That class is so ridiculous that it hurts too much to feel anything. I just expect the worst of myself now. It’s cynical, I know. However, I am not sure I want to fix it. I think I am happy with my cynicism for now, maybe. It’s a strategy.

I got 2 A’s and a B on my other midterms, and those are classes I care about. I think that is good enough for me.

Now I am going to grab my cup of Sleepy Time and go watch some bad TV in bed. ONE DAY LEFT. Please excuse any grammatical errors (I just wrote “exquse” instead of “excuse”), you can blame it on my square-y eyes.

I am so exhausted, there are no words.

I got home at five from an eight-hour school day.

It took me an hour to walk home.

The weather was beautiful, sunny and warm, but I was too hungry and tired to appreciate it.

I can say without a doubt in my mind that I learned nothing today. I learned nothing and accomplished nothing. At least nothing school-related. My calendar is full of colorful illustrations and doodles, though.

I wrote two of my closets friends, whom I haven’t seen for the past six months due to my Winter-hibernation. I am a pretty shitty friend. It’s something I have wanted to do for so long, write them I mean, I just haven’t had the surplus in energy that it seems to take for me to initiate these types of things. Social things. Normal things. Things I want to do.

My calendar and its lack of appointments was also a pretty obvious sign that I need a life. I mean, I have been putting in OLD appointments that happened before I even got the calendar, just to feel like I am doing something. Hence my upcoming play dates.

I had cornflakes for dinner, but managed to do the dishes. That made me feel like Super Woman.

There is a really weird smell in my apartment and I can’t locate where it’s coming from. I don’t think I want to, either. Not tonight. It’s too much work. With knowledge comes responsibility. And I am fucking tired.

Three days. Three days. Three days.

Three days.

Spring Break, I need you so.

Five, four, three, two, one, VACAY TIME.

Only five days left until the vacation and I am soooo ready for a week of sleeping in, spending my days in the sun, company of my choosing, literature of my choosing, et cetera. I have been craving books so badly, I don’t think I have read for enjoyment since I went back to school. It is kind of like that week, where I lived off frozen pizzas and diet coke. I was pretty ready for an apple by then. True story, bro.

The truth is that I am so fed up with only reading excerpts. My first and only impressions of some of the greatest authors ever, have been through excerpts of their masterpieces. I am so opposed to the idea of dissecting a book and its character gallery based on five or six pages, and it pisses me off every single time. I am no author, but I can imagine one of such title feeling slightly disheartened that their work, which I believe only really works in its entirety, gets summed up and boiled down like that based on barely any information. I understand why it works that way, I do, but it is more the point of it.

That is why I have vowed to follow up on every single author we have read anything by in my English class. When I am done with school, that is. I don’t think my head can handle more than one book at a time. Oh, I’m sorry, EXCERPT.

Also, for something totally unrelated: I don’t think this is what was intended, but the movie “He Is Just Not That Into You” (which I think BLOWS) is on right now and it is seriously depressing. All the hurt feelings, the infidelity… it might end well, but it sure is a long depressing road getting there… and Ben Affleck’s cringe-inducing proposal definitely did not help.

Well, what I decided to gather from the rather macabre dream I had last night is that it was my brain’s way of telling me that it was in need of something delicious, such as some el-chocolate-o. I’m sure you can agree, it’s pretty good for the soul.

My tummy tells me it was a pretty good decision.

I had a dream last night about ice cream. I kept trying to get different people to go with me to Paradice, but everybody was so SLOW and indecisive and it was like, COME ON. In my dream I had no legs and was therefore deeply dependent on others to take me there. After a while I decided to say fuck it and go there myself, and I got into a car, with no driver’s license, and killed about 47 people in my quest to get ice cream. I guess that is what happens when you drive a car with no legs. I could make the car go and go fast, but I needed a leg to push the brakes.

It made sense in my dream.

I finally made it to Paradice, but there was no ice cream. As a result of my lateness it had been turned into a bar with creepy people and disgusting bathrooms (I had to pee, running people over was a little too action-filled for my bladder). I went home to an apartment that wasn’t mine, with a girl from my class, whom I barely talk to. My sister was there, too. After a while of still being deeply upset about the ice cream situation, there is a heavy knock on the front door. All three of us are scared, because it’s evening and we are in a strange apartment. I go to answer and outside the door is a VERY masculine-looking woman, who hands me two bags. Of ice cream. My friend’s mother, the dream angel, had felt bad that nobody had taken me (I don’t think anybody felt bad about the 47 people, who lost their lives as a result of my reckless driving – I didn’t, either), and she had decided to call for a special ice cream delivery just for me. I could tell immediately that the masculine-looking delivery woman was a famous Danish male actor dressed as a woman, and I said, it’s you, isn’t it?, and she smiled creepily and started walking down the stairs.

Peter Frödin and his creepy smile

ANALYZE THAT.

… Stop playing Draw Something with people whose insane drawing skills make my drawings look like those of a three year-old.

Friend’s drawing:

Okay, are you even supposed to be able to draw this well on an iPhone? Pretty sure that shit ain’t right.

Mine, after ten minutes of blood, sweat and tears:

Now that’s more like it! I am pretty sure this is what the Draw Something-people intended with this app, to finally make room for those of us, who are just HORRIBLE drawers. Or something. We need love too, you know.

Speaking of Draw Something, PLEASE play with me! Even if you are talented. It’s okay, that’s just a quality about you that I will have to accept, even though it’s hard. Just like you’ll have to accept that I suck. My username is Sufff89.