I can hear my roommate in the kitchen, shuffling through papers, “Is there free food?” she asks, getting my attention. I’ve been writing and deleting this post, no words are coming to my head and I keep writing.
ctrl + a
at the moment it seems to be an endless cycle but the pent up hunger and my current mental state need some sort of therapy. I’m sitting cross legged in one of our kitchen chairs next to the piano. We don’t really live in a typical “dorm,” I guess. It’s two stories tall with four bedrooms, four bathrooms, a kitchen, living room and kind of dining room. We have a piano, a decent TV and a huge kitchen with (probably not completely) granite counter tops and a gas stove. Six of us live here.
My phone lights up and I can’t help but smirk. “Ashurbanipal” is the only word in the text – it’s from Billy. Typical. He loves history, and being it’s the history of my culture, he gets my attention. It’s twelve-twenty in the afternoon and I’m starving (of course).
Contemplating going on a grocery trip. This trip I’ve been putting off for weeks now is probably going to happen soon but I’ll keep putting it off for as long as I possibly can. Probably. I want healthy things. Recipes to cook. Pasta with sauce and butter is getting old. So are nachos, fajitas and eggs. Hastily opening up the recipe tag on wordpress, I scroll. and scroll and scroll.
I probably don’t have time for this. I have a comms (communications class) presentation due tomorrow at nine o’clock and notes due at eight. Also have environmental impact report reading to do and books to buy, aaand a meeting to prepare for tonight at seven o’clock.
If I had to pick one thing (the most prominent thing) I’ve learned from college is time management. Whether it’s setting up to cook or sitting down to blog I have to account for everything else that I’m responsible for.
Twelve thirty, homework time.