Well, I haven't left a note in a while, so.

Still emotionally... not there. At all. I have to not think about anything at all or I start weeping. So.

Need to write... thirty, forty pages by Monday. Wednesday at latest. With graduation shit going on.

I can't stop sleeping all day. Literally.

But tomorrow may be better.  I have... eeeeeevil plans.  Evil, evil plans for world domination through scientific enlightenment. *Cackles madly*

Trojie and I shall conquer the world.

Wait and see. *Grins brightly* Never had so much fun. All due to the fact that birds are living dinos and a cladistics discussion and on how to properly clone a velociraptor. (No, not frogs. Spielberg, you fail.)

When it's ready, there Will Be Much Pimpage. Trust me. 

Anyway. Assuming I have not committed suicide (I won't, I promise, I'm being melodramatic this time, I thought I'd reassure anyone who cares), haven't failed from not writing and not having a presentation, and have not finally gone mad by this time two weeks from now... you will have lots of neat graphics and maybe some interesting posts in my writing journal on hero archetypes and on fanfiction, teen writing, and the Dreaded Mary Sue.

My MIT geek has come out at last. Muahahaha...

*SQUEE* KITTENS! *Glees*

Have I mentioned I need new icons? I really do. I need SCIENCYONES.

So... strange thing about my moods, lately, is that I can swing from one to the other with no warning, one minute to the next--and that I can be depressed about my grades and life and still be hyperactive high.  This is particularly true when my medicine keeps me from having an anxiety stress nervous breakdown.

But.

We did Fine Arts Awards today.

I... oh my GOD. I was pissed the alto section leader got an honorable mention for the concert choir.  She sucks. Doesn't show up half the time.  Choir president got award for that choir.  But... BUT. Tenor section leader--Tom, the boy who was a bitch to me but has been nicer lately--got the award for the top, a capella choir--and I got the honorable mention. Only non-section leader. *Beams* Didn't get any mentions for Jazz, which PISSED ME OF PARRISH I'VE DONE IT FOR FOUR YEARS AND I AM YOUR FUCKING PIANIST.

But.  BUT!

I GOT THE MUSIC DEPARTMENT AWARD. As in, for the whole music department.  For excellence and contribution to multiple musical disciplines. *BEAMS* I'm so happy.

MUSIC DEPARTMENT AWARD.

I... my god. I'm actually, like, leader in my school in music.

Just... eeeh. I'm so HAPPY.

Then I was like "Crap, I turned into JP!" Heh.  I love him. He's my cellist bass guy who went to Princeton.

Just... yey.

...By now, this afternoon, I'm very tired, hungry, bitter again, and just not up to this shit again. But... I'm still so happy!

Me.  Music award. From the fucking department. Because, apparently, I'm the best all-around musician at the school right now.

*SQUEEEEEEEEEEE*

Okay.

So.

Remember how I'm going to MIT?  It gets awesomer and awesomer.  I'll tell the story of my Not-Leatherman-Knife later today.  Once I'm back from Lucy.

BUT.

MIT: Betsy, Kendra, my new gayboy friend hopefully (I THINK so) who will TOTALLY SING OUT TONIGHT WITH ME AND DANCES IN LVB WITH ME, Kate, Kimberly, bunches of awesome new people.
Boston:  Andrew, loverly people.
Wellesley: Anjali and now KATIE AS WELL WHOOOOOOT.

It's like all my favorite old people (with the exception of Lizbeth) AND cool new ones AND even more I don't know yet! *DAAAAAAANCES*

MIT? IS MY LIFE.

DANCE PARTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

I want a part-time job teaching.

Preferably teaching high school calculus, regular track.  Aaaaah, so much fun. SO much fun.

And I even explained limits using Xeno's Paradox a la football today. *Gleeees*

I wants food. Hmm.

Happy birthday to my childhood love.  Who has been less of an ass to me lately, so I will wish him a happy birthday with true joy.

It's almost over, people--and I'm slowly getting happier.  And...

If I can just write this fucking paper and my ISP, I'll be golden. Golden, and happy, and... my life will make sense again.

In my Jenness' idiom, peace out. 

Ye gods. It doesn't matter what I'm doing or what is happening, or anything.  That song comes on--it was on the disc of the MIT/Wellesley Toons, which I admittedly bought for this song--and I start crying and wanting to die.

I just... gods, this song hits me in a place I don't even know how to describe.  ...It's possibly somewhere in the small intestine, based on where I'm currently pointing. I think it's a little low for the stomach. ....Ignore my strangeness, really. I'm allowed to be insane nowadays.

Anyway.  I had a point for this post, really.  Just... the... sadness of this song is killing my soul temporarily. ...I wonder if I could write with Shia with this? Shia/Celadan being my shinynew OTP. They're... guh. They have problems, but they're LEGIT, and he sees sense when logic provides proof she's not a bitch.  I love Shia, the poor abused girl.  And CELADAN...! Ack, he's amazhing.

Before I go rambling on, I'll cut myself off.  Before that, however, in honor of the "Yes" button I clicked earlier today...

*Pause, then geeks out* First a story.  A New Year's Story.  I'll call it... The Story of One-Sided-Rivalries-Between-Schools.

(I fail.)

There was once a university.  Let's call it... oh, H University.  It was a fine old school of high standing, with ivy vines and old stones and a good reputation and lots of rich alumni and a "vard" at the end of its name, and a yard that rhymed with it very well.  Let's call it... H Yard.  So, it was orientation of 1990, and the organizers at H University thought "Wouldn't it be just swell if we put a plaque in our Yard and had our freshmen search for it? It'll build a sense of community and bonding, and when they find it they will present it to the president, and we'll accept it with great ceremony and full academic regalia, and it will be their acceptance into our wonderful world and university."

Pro: Lovely idea. Or at least suitably trite.
Con: Certain students of a rival university across the river--across the H Bridge, in fact, otherwise known as the Mass Avenue Bridge as H is an unspeakable word--heard about this plan.  They were, in fact, hackers. Hackers meaning pranksters, if you will. This school has a long tradition of hacking.

So, the night before the search was to be held, the students of this university snuck over to H Yard, searched out the plaque, found it, and took it.  The next morning, the president of their own university arrived at work to find a package on his desk.  This was before the days of Anthrax, so it hadn't been opened. So he looks at it, and looks at it, and opens it, and inside there is this heavy piece of metal.  It was left with this note: 

"We give you this small token in appreciation of your
years of dedication to our traditional Tech values.

We hope you enjoy having this little bit of their  tradition. It might
amuse you to know that the H Class of '94 spends an evening
searching H Yard for what is now in your hands. . . Please feel
free to dispose of the gift as you see fit."

And, of course, what else could the president do... but present it to the president of H University... with great ceremony... and full academic regalia... in front of the whole world.

Welcome to MIT.

Because getting your dreams,
It's strange, but it seems
A little, well, complicated...
There's a kind of a sort of... cost
There's a couple of things get... lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you've crossed
Until you've crossed...

And if that joy, that... thrill
Doesn't thrill like you think it will...

Still.

Except, in my case... it's not a BAD not-like-I-thought.  Not at all.

It's... it's so strange.  It's right.  It feels right.  It's almost as magnificent as Columbia, but less... strident, and... and it...

It's right.  I hope I get into Random.  I'm unofficially moving in even if I don't.  Seriously, I am.  I'm in love.  I'm so...

I'm so happy.

I'm back in my room in my parent's apartment now.  I won't call it home exactly anymore.  Not now.

A month left.  Less, even.  Two weeks until my Synth paper is due. Last of classes.

And then... it's over.  All of it.

It's done. And I can be... happy. There really are people like me in the world, people who are warm and welcoming and really fucking insane and geeky and do really crazy dangerous shit.  And...

I'll... I'll go into more detail, tell stories, talk about some of my new friends and my new home... later. Maybe not much later.

After I've sealed it.  Gods, I hope I don't fuck up.  Because I can see my life, and it's there. It's all just... right there.

...I'm exhausted.

Absolutely exhausted.  I'm... I got in about an hour ago, less than that even.  It's about five o'clock now.  *Rubs eyes* And it's so late there's NO reason for me to take out my contacts.  Ah well.

Still. Rooftops and sneaking around and meeting Jack (...and Jack and Jack and Jack and Jack and Jack and...) was totally worth it, as was hanging out at Random even if I didn't have pancakes.

Yes, I'll explain everything eventually. Swear.

...Soon's everything's all... set in stone and stuff.

I'm not sure I'm ready for all this.

Also? I'm this close to telling Delany to fucking spell and grammar check her posts.  Just... dear GODS argh.

Also, Ian is a slick, sleazy, little bastard.  Can be charming, apparently, but no heart. *Sneers at him* Ugh. I hate the character. The player, however, is pretty damn good.  Kaden took exception to his attitude and actually said thirteen words at one go. I was shocked. Tyrone is antisocial and is probably going to run into trouble with a sadist girl who's hanging out.  Also, I SWEAR Delany is making eyes at boys. As in, noting the similarity of color of eyes and it's MAKING ME REALLY FUCKING SICK.

...Ugh. Alcohol. Nice guy in the entry I'm bunking in, but a frat guy. And MAN he is hammered. Came in, chatted with me... luckily I could be so wrapped up in my laptop as to not give him the time of day.  Yey subtle discouragement. Slash leave me alone.  Think I'm gonna sleep soon. ...Apparently there's... a guy. Hanging around somewhere. *Weirded out* Ugh.

Off to send Tyrone packing to his room, and then bed. ...And Matt, hon? You're dead drunk. Go sleep. And leave me the fuck alone now, thanks.

*Nervous smile*

I'd say... four and a half hours, now, until I have to be all 100% set and heading downstairs to the car.

Packed. With my new schoolbag, and my new gorgeous purse (By which I mean it is brown, utilitarian, a side bag, has water bottle pockets, and pretty blue flower-things on it that might be lilacs or I might be deluding myself for the sake of the FTW ness), my duffle, my sleeping bag, my clothes, my fucking borrowed calc book, my notebook, power cord for computer and charger for iPod... uhm... USB CD drive... my books (which will be, I think, City Watch and possibly a Susan or Death or two).  It's a lot less than I usually pack for things.

I feel ill.

I didn't eat dinner.

Except, uh, I'm not actually with the Elvish thing... -_-.

That's a very useful smiley, I've noticed.

Anyway. *Clears throat* DAMN YOU SONORA! *Sulk* First you make my anti-social-brat character SOCIABLE because there's an Irish boy in his house and he's latching on to the whole Gael thing, and now he's feeling sorry for being downright rude and evil to the American girl who can't even understand half of what they're saying, and is being... nice. He should be trying to impersonate Draco or something in sheer bitchiness. ARGH. YOU KILLED MY GOOD INTENTIONS.

And even WORSE, Sonora... THE IRISH BOY'S WRITER KNOWS IRISH WORDS FOR SOME THINGS. AND USES THEM. AS IN, FUCK YOU, I AM GOING TO BE FORCED TO LEARN GAELIC JUST TO BLOODY POST WHEN HE ACCIDENTALLY STARTS TALKING IN SCOTS GAELIC TO THE IRISH BOY. *SULKglowerglare*

Although the number of random phrases I know in Gaelic is growing! *Beams* Word for Highlands? Gaidhealtachd. WTF, no?

In conclusion... Sonora? I love you to death. More than words can say.

But you'll drive me insane (possibly with the happy).

Also... *Clears throat* More on this later, but I'll be out of town Thursday to Sunday.  I ought to locate internet somewhere, though. *Nervous...*

All this reminds me, though, LG, mi amiga. We need to play with Camus and Tyrone some time. Really. Library boys. Whee. (BTW, we just read The Fall by Albert Camus last month and I can't look at Camus's name without laughing.)

Also, I REALLY want one of my 'verses to see a supernova in their galaxy.

The above is copyright to yours truly, April 5, 2008.

lotsa stuff to say, but it can wait until I'm not, as previously stated, mostly bloodless.

I gots my LG-chan back. *Cuddles*

And Saundra? I worship you. And officially claim presidency of the Nine Houses fanclub. *Squees at it!*

And... it's so MUCH, there's too much information and I need to add more, add the colour of magic and the world, and it's all happening so fast when the glass shatters, and the sun is so bright, and then...

And then.

Good night for now.