I just made myself a toasted peanut butter, Nutella, and banana sandwich and now my mouth has died and gone to heaven.

Perhaps I have found the necessary reserves of strength to wash my hair, get dressed, and drag myself out of my little Yuletide-reading nest to go play some Wii with my mom.

Shit, fire alarm.


ETA: For the record, my house didn't burn down, but when I went downstairs my mom and brother were unconcernedly playing Wii in the media room as smoke poured out of the fireplace. "I think the flue's just a bit stopped up."

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Hm. It's 6:30 in the morning and I haven't slept at all.

Today I'm supposed to get my adderall refilled, the last time before my health insurance expires, whee. Have three papers and a senior project left to finish before I can graduate this spring. Am trying to convince myself that stress over school is distracting me and therefore the reason my writing currently sucks. Am stressed by the prospect that stress can send my writing immediately into the toilet, I mean don't professional writers have to write all the time no matter what, ugh. Hate, hate, hate that months still separate acceptance emails, like I can only write to somebody else's standards three or four times a year, in freak accidents of inspiration. I just want to shake the people who get new stories published all the time, like how do they deal with the compulsive need to be published (which must be something they have, why else would they be printed in 60 journals in the same 3 months) while still being able to sit down and bang out something competent.

That Jersey Shore show guy, The Situation? makes me think of what my Jersey nickname would be. The Failure, obvs. Rachel "The Failure" Andelman-- hear that? That's called music.

Basically the only thing I feel really good right now is my ability to dance to my headphones in an empty house. Hopefully the adderall will make me feel better about going out with people-- it's funny that my friend stopped taking hers because it made her weird around people, I feel weird around people w/o it-- which will in turn lighten my mood and be more able to tackle the writing, hopefully obsess less over my complete and seemingly unchangeable ignorance regarding form, how I can't seem to write a simple story, the next sentence rushing headlong to cut off the narrative at weird hard angles, a function of my deep and ruinous impatience.

I could do a post about Avatar or something, but instead I will just bring you this delightful news:

My mother made me tofu bolitos.

Looooove.

Time changes in California are magicaaaal. In bed by 7:15 PM, asleep by 8:30, and up again by 7:30 AM. It was like being five again, only, like, my brother when he was five, not me when I was five because I went to bed late and liked to sleep in.

My family was all like, "We have a ticket to the 7 PM showing of Avatar for you, come with us!" and I was like, "Bitch, please, I haven't been to bed before 3 AM this week! I'm not going to be awake for that three-hour long white man's guilt fest, even if it does win the Oscar and the Nobel Peace Prize!*"

And then I fell asleep. Oh, vacation.


* I will probably go to see it. Just not last night.

I made Marat/Sade/Sade, guys:

OMG I'VE FINALLY STOPPED HICCUPING, THANK YOU GOD. I WAS ALMOST READY TO PROMISE TO NEVER DRINK AGAIN IF ONLY I WOULD STOP FUCKING HICCUPING.

Least favorite thing about myself how I hiccup more than anyone I've ever known? Yes.