uncommoncold

I wanted to watch Jon Stewart comment on Schiavo's death but it was a re-run tonight, from last week. That's the definition of depressing, right there. He's my lover- unfortunately, he's completely unaware of this fact. Someone send him a note, will you? You can tell him that I like like him if you wish. Post it on his locker with chewed gum.

So, the Latin test of death was postponed until tomorrow, and I'm still just about as unprepared as I was on Monday. I made flashcards but went downtown and bought ridiculously hot sunglasses and a pumpkin scone instead of studying them.

My mother sent me a box of chocolate in the mail, but I don't know when I'll be able to pick it up. My current schedule of work & school duing the day and socializing in the evening does not mix well with standard bus depot hours. Chocolate should come to me. I shouldn't have to go to it.

Received a few extraordinarily sweet e-mails today. Some say I have a heart too soon made glad. They're probably right.

I'm going to see Sin fuckin' City this weekend. It's going to be so, so hot.

And now, I sleep with the wind howling outside my window. It's whistling the same way it used to in my house in Comox, underneath the tiniest cracks below the door.

Hopefully Latin is kind to me tomorrow.

Goodnight.