Evening of 1-18-6

I’m naked. Well, under my bathrobe, at least. Well, okay, I’m not completely naked in that respect, either. I have socks on. …And slippers. …And whether I mention it or not, I’m always wearing bikini undies to keep my foreskin snug over my glans. Mmmhmm. I killed the lights. This is my way of convincing myself that it’s “nighttime”. There’s a difference between staying up all night with the lights on, and staying up with the lights off. Even if it’s only 8 PM, if you’ve been sitting in complete darkness for a while, you’ll think it’s the dead of the night.

It’s 11:11 PM. *nods* I vaguely remember mentioning something about how I don’t or don’t like napping. I felt exhausted this afternoon, mentally and physically. So I curled up on my bed, snuggled my hot pink blanket, draped my bathrobe over me, and passed out. Why can’t sleeping always be that easy? If it’s an odd hour, or if I’m on a vehicle, I can always sleep. If it’s “bedtime”, suddenly I find myself lying awake, wondering if I’ll sleep. Meh.

I woke up like a ton of bricks, as that’s always how I feel post-nap. I recognized that if I stayed here, I probably would not feel like doing anything, and would probably feel down about that very thing. I flipped off my cold and went to the gym. I got my goddamn rest, I’m downing my goddamn fluids, and I’m eating plenty of goddamn food. I’m fine for an abbreviated workout. Just about the only thing I did normally was deadlifts, everything else was a lot less exertion. Actually, that was only five exercises. Pull-ups, deadlift, overhead press, crunches, and side-bends. I called it a day and showered naked. (Because you can’t shower with clothes on.)

I considered doing some homework in the diner. But I don’t want to associate the diner with work. So I brought my journal with me, scribbled some thoughts, and read a few pages of Bertrand Russell. Being evening, Diego was on shift. He asked me what book I was reading and commented, “Russell?! He was against the war!” He then plopped down a Dubya Dubya Two book he was reading. *laughs* Diego’s a cool waiter if he knows you. He treats large groups of teenagers much differently. He’ll speak little english, when he obviously has a good grasp of the language.

Went to the library. I avoided tackling my first spanish assignment by reading the first two (rather short) chapters in the Weight Training book. I think it’s a book Krista Smash wouldn’t have much problem with. Glanced through my Child Psychology book, assuming I got the right book. Didn’t have my bill with me, so I wasn’t verifying section numbers. Oh well. Book seems about as engrossing as my psych 101 book. You can just flip to a random page and start reading. A lot of information, but as always, everything is paced. I’ll be okay. Finally decided, “Okay. Spanish now.” Finished fast and left.

I held out doing the other CD-related things I had to do. Turns out there’s nothing to write down. These are CDs my teacher last semester didn’t ask us to do anything with. I could just ignore them, but the fact that there’s no pressure to “produce” anything makes it easier to approach them. They could be useful.

In the past week, I’ve really become aware of how my hair is growing. Obviously it’s falling down my head a bit more. I just notice the texture. If it’s under my fuzzy hat for a bit, or I sleep on it, it becomes softer. I find myself running my fingers through my hair more. I’ve missed that.

*sips orange jews*

Oh, I haven’t mentioned something. The weight training room at CCM is a joke. It really is. It’s about the size of two classrooms – though I suppose some of the more wide than long classrooms at Rutgers were about the same size. Instructor seems okay. My Systems Analysis teacher is a cute chick. (LOOK AT ME, I’M SEXIST! 😉 ) My Spanish II teacher is a voluptuous woman. It’s the only way to describe her. She has pleasing curves, and she has a good personality. I think she knows how to teach, knows how to talk way over our heads in spanish, but also realizes that, hey, we don’t know spanish. I hope I gather some amusing quotes from her in spanish as the semester passes.

Hrm. I downed a whole bunch of water before, keeping my fluid intake up. I believe my kidneys have strained some water out of my bloodstream and collected it in my bladder! *purrs*

Now’s not a Sims2 time. Sims2 is a long-term game. It requires thinking and planning. I typically have something in mind when I click on a house. Now Battlefront, that’s all reaction time. There isn’t too much advanced thought to it. I can play for ten minutes, I can play for ten hours. But Sims, I simply can’t drop it until I feel “finished” with a certain objective. I hate stopping things mid-progress. This is how I manage to write long papers and articulate treatises in one single shot and give cunnilingus for over an hour.

So.

Yeah. It’s PLAYTIME. *goes*