So I’ve had an interesting semester. I can type without looking at the keyboard now (most of the time). I bought an actual coat and now layering is just the BEGINNING of the history of Mark staying warm. I’ve drank more coffee than I have in my entire lifetime up to the this semester. My career choices have narrowed (although the paths are still quite broad) and the passions driving this narrowing have been intensified by the self-imagined catalyst that is Capitalist Socialism (I’m not sure what that means either, but it sounds all academic and controversial and that’s good enough for me).
OH AND I BOUGHT A PLANNER WHICH MEANT THAT ALL MY PROBLEMS WENT AWAY. Almost. Now I can keep track of all my problems. Except for the fact that I hardly ever refer back to it after having written something in it.
But ENOUGH OF THIS ESOTERIC CHIT CHAT that keeps blogs from reaching Level Win in terms of readers who care. I wrote in my planner a list of things that I wanted to write about over the semester but have never found the time for (Farmville *cough cough hack vomit*).
Those can wait a few more weeks days. What I want to write about right now that I’m home and procrastinating driving back to school, partially because I’m too lazy to find my planner (of whose location one meter from my left arm I am completely aware), and partially because my internet works slightly faster at home, is this:
I realize I’m an appetite-less workaholic who hates work and loves food.
I know what you’re thinking. Actually no I don’t. You probably get me. And we’ll leave it at that.
I’ll make more sense when I have food in me.
