Premeditated Misconduct

Oh, my fucking lord, it's so hot.
Humid.
I stick to things. I can't think. Or function. Or care.
I desperately want to run a cool bath and fall asleep in the tub, but Wendy needs the bathroom to get ready for work. *whine*

I couldn't get out of my class, so I guess I am taking a three week course on Hebrew short story now. Jesus wept, the books for the damn thing almost doubled my bill at the store: almost 300$ even. It hurts to even think about it.

I had what was possibly one of the weirdest and most disturbing dreams when I napped before class this morning: I dreamt that I was having sex with Evan.
Ok, there's nothing wrong with that, although it is still a bit strange for me to actually dream about sex.
No, no. The weird part is the fact that I was topping. With a strap-on. And lots and lots of lube.
OMGWTFBBQ. O_o!;;
'Nuff said.
Actually, no. There's one more thing to say. In my dream, he seemed to be enjoying it. ^_^ That pleases me, even if it is a figment of my own sick subconscious.

Blech.

Jess plays in Photoshop. Occasionally, she learns stuff...but mostly she just plays. She's not out to impress anyone but herself anyway.
( Some more of the results of said playtime. )
For the most part, simple, clean, elegant. I'm boring like that.

It's still hot, but I'm going to sprawl out on my bed with the single itty-bitty fan we have in the house turned on me and try to sleep.

Feeling a bit out of it now and then the last few days. Sleepy, tired, lethargic, bored and yet restless, angry, obstinate. I don't know what my problem is.

I'm getting stuff done, and sometimes I'm even doing a good job on it. I'm very happy with my Taoism midterm (in which I compared the tao of the Tao-Te Ching and the logos of The Gospel of John); I've stitched up the massive holes in three pairs of my jeans; I mailed off my FAFSA, organized my closet, located my sandals, did most of my reading for tomorrow's classes, wrote more on my original story for my writing class, and started a new piece of fanfic (Envy/Ed/Wrath, for those curious).

There's a free Stuart Davis concert in St. Paul this Sunday that I will, of course, be attending.

Speaking of this weekend... *raises a brow* May or may not be having company. *pokes wolfe_guardian* I don't know if that plan's still go, but you are always welcome here, darlin', and I do mean always. (What? Don't you know? You were adopted! ^_^) You're a delight, truly.
And in another week, ozen will be gracing me with her lovely, lively presence. Yippie! I'm so looking forward to it.

I actually have a job interview with--of all places!--the Sanrio store in the Mall of America on Monday. (Because I'm such a Hello Kitty-type person! *snortlaugh*)
Hell, I even got my hundred dollar room deposit back from Northland today, so I have a little more money.

(Things I Still Need to Get Done:
-Develop film
-Return library books!
-Deposit check
-Patch other two pairs of pants
-Write up evaluation)

But I'm just not feelin' the love for some reason.
I'm not feeling like I'm hitting my stride. Everything's a bit off. I'm not trying hard enough. I'm not living up to my potential. I'm not doing good enough; I'm slacking.
But at the same time, I don't want to do anything but slack.

Damn it, I want to be a better person! I want to be someone worthwhile; I want to be someone competent and respectable and friendly and responsible and approachable.
I want to be me, but all the good and none of the bad. I want to be the Mary Sue version of me.
I get so tired of being a fuck-up. Of being a slacker. Or sitting on my ass and blowing time. Of being lazy. Of being irresponsible. Of wasting who I am and what I could be if I just applied myself.

I hate my own hypocrisy.
I hate my envy and useless rage.
I hate my helplessness in the face of my own failings.
I hate all my faults, and if I could take a razor to them and excise them-- like cutting out my right eye or my hand-- I would.
I hate my hatred, but I can't see to do anything about it.

(God, I feel now the way I usually feel when I've been off my Zoloft for a few weeks...and that's not a good sign, 'cause I'm taking the damned stuff. >.< Fuck you, expensive medication.)

I think I need to take some time to back off and assess myself.
*sigh*

Since Tom wants to go, and I want to go (and since I feel that I have an investment in going now), we will probably be showing up at the drag show.
(We unfortunately cannot stay long. *grumble, grumble*)

And I have an idea.
A terrible, wicked idea.
*grins*

Victoria's Secret push-up bra:
35$

VS Sexy Little Thing (tm) lacy panties:
18$

A pair of chunky high-heeled shoes:
25$

The look on Annie's face when she realizes what exactly is under that little tiny red plaid Catholic school girl skirt:

PRICELESS.

Some things money can't buy, but for everything else, Jess has Visa.
^_^

Returned safely from Ashland, no problems or incidences of note.

( Babblings about my trip )

( Furry freakiness )

I have officially been single for 19 months now.
(single = completely single; not dating, even casually; no real crushes or potential relationships; nothing; nada.)
Go me! (Or something.) *shrugs*

I have been unemployed for 5 months.
Go me! I'm a lazy slacker bum and proud!

...God, I think I need to go pass out. I still feel messed up from last night.