Monday, January 26

Bet you can't tell I'm temporarily blind
BTS. As usual. I should diversify my lyric theft, huh? Well, Saturday's was Smashing Pumpkins, and what could be more different from BTS? Wu Tang, perhaps. I'll work on that.

I'm tired. My brain and my body. It's only Monday. That makes me tireder.

Things swimming in my head:
+I need to write my lottery-on-campus story. First, I need to contact a source again. And then write it for Wednesday's paper.
+Get crackin' on that dining services story. Paul Stuart can't avoid me forever. But he'll try.
+Make a brilliant mock-up of the newspaper of the future! My team is counting on me to not suck. They want to see my roughs Wednesday. The little bit I spent an hour or two on tonight isn't enough to sneeze at. Need. More. Time.
+This Mary Hesse essay on theory and observation won't stop looking at me. Its magnificent 43 pages are downright callous.
+This fabled research paper/presentation isn't getting done by itself, though if I were a witch it might.
+Having $40 in my checking account makes me melancholy, especially when the bills keep stacking up in my passenger seat.
+How do you motivate mediocre writers to care about their job and the paper and your wishes enough to try to impress?
+Why did I volunteer to head up the BHM tabloid, knowing that I wouldn't have an inkling of time to get it done?
+When in the hell am I going to sqeeze in my silly story about P.E. classes?

Oh yes, a bit of news: I figured out how to add a comment link for those of you who want to shout things back to me when I hit a nerve or bore you to death.

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