ensimismada

SO MUCH WANT.

…that bed, I mean…

Taking notes. My housemates are quite deep sleepers…

but since I’ve been back in the States I’ve been waking up and getting tired at funny times, dead awake at 5:30am and weak and dizzy at 4pm. I somehow feel cut-off from the town that I live in. It’s an interesting place, but it doesn’t interest me. I think I’ll make a point of exploring it more this weekend.

Point is, I guess, I’m in some weird in-between place right now and somehow Spanish kills me and somehow English kills me too, but the Spanish-death is scarier and the English-death is sadder.

I’ve taken up running again, but that’s more to lose weight than anything else, and simultaneously somehow to bleed off my excess energy and to give me more overall energy (get rid of restlessness, build up focused energy, I guess? Help?). I’m doing it on a treadmill, though, because this damn town is either super urban or super hilly and the former kills my lungs and the latter kills my legs (I guess this post is about the various ways in which I die?). Hill workouts are good, but they really impact me after doing a few days of literally no level ground.

So, in any event, the running feels good.

I’m starting to bug out about my research project. I have so much material and how the fuck do I organize it all and draw things out of it. It’s gonna take me another week to finish my research and then holy shit I have another three months or so to make my fucking presentation about the Quijote/Quijote criticism/philosophy/historiography. I’m totally in love with it but I am trying so hard not to be unworthy.

Also, my bangs have reached some weird stage of growing-outedness where they look weird straight down, weird swept aside, and are not yet long enough to be pulled back with the rest of my hair and the rest of my hair is also its own awkward length where it makes for stunted-looking ponytails and it also looks kinda strange just hanging down.

Yeesh, all of this made me sound horribly dissatisfied with my life. Which isn’t true. I’m just stuck in a weird little in-between time right now and some stuff doesn’t feel too terribly real to me but the truth is that every today is better than every yesterday. I don’t mean this as a brag, but each day gets better for me.

Why? Because of ambition, luck, and love.

And as tired as I may get, I will myself to be able to be impressed by anything, so that I will always be smiling.

my kind of clock.

THIS IS MY HOUSE. O__O;

and I blame it on how damn good these chocolate-covered coffee beans taste. I am making my own batch as soon as the store-bought ones run out. Mark my words.

But y’know what? I have like 70000 books to read and an iPod full of classical music so 

BRING IT THE FUCK ON.

Wherein you don’t sleep for a solid chunk of time each night but rather take short naps throughout the day.

I don’t see how this could be good for you (fucking with circadian rhythms and all) but it’s certainly interesting.