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Alida: A 23-year-old Canadian exploring the infinite abyss that is New York City.

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recent posts

Uncle Richard, me, and James Earl Jones - Tuesday, Apr. 04, 2006
So beautiful when the boy smiles - Sunday, Apr. 02, 2006
One way or another - Sunday, Dec. 25, 2005
Way up high - Saturday, Dec. 10, 2005
Reason to start over new - Friday, Dec. 09, 2005

archives

2005: January February March April May June July August September
2004: January February March April May June July August September October November December
2003: January February March April May June July August September October November December
2002: January February March April May June July August September October November December
2001: May June July August September October November December

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Diaryland
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Good morning.

Yeah, I'm finding it hard to believe that I'm up, showered, dressed, made up, at school, and coherent with so much time to spare. I don't know what's wrong with me. I've been falling asleep at 2:00 or later, and waking up at 6:00 or earlier. Maybe it's paranoia of being late. If that's the case, I could do with this paranoia waking me up early more often. Making it anywhere early on time is the bane of my existance.

Movement paper, done. Thank goodness for laptops at Dennys, and a place to plug in. That's where I finished it last night, without the distractions of TV and the internet, like I would have at home. It's a good paper, too, I think. I like it, anyways. I enjoy these reflection-type papers much more than research papers. I just hope Tracey likes it as much as I do.

And I think that I'd better continue my good start to the day by getting my butt upstairs to class. I've been running early all day; I don't want to start late now.

I'm hungry. I need some breakfast. I've got a granola bar and juice box in my backpack--that'll have to hold me until lunch.

One year ago today: I posted this poem a few months ago, and then I took it off, and I really wonder what would have happened if I hadn't. It's going up again, though, and this time, it's staying up. It's my poem; don't worry. I'm not stealing or plaguarizing someone else's work or anything. It's just... it's just what I wonder.
infinite || abyss