Interesting day. Could not figure out my CS project, something having to do with anonymous functions, I am having trouble figuring it out. Then off to my creative writing class. That class is worth the money just for the entertainment value. The professor is so strange, a true artist type. He started banging down the door because it wouldn't close, and this woman in the hall started complaining about it. He started class with a long speech about attendance issues, then he got really angry when he saw a student tape-recording him. The student proceeded to tell the professor off, picked up his things, and left. All of what he said was true, of course, everyone in the class was thinking it, but no one really wanted to say it to his face. Then the professor went into a calm discourse on the most organized professors in the creative writing department, and how he (obviously) isn't one of them. Then more crap about the "final project" we are doing, and more crap about these two stories we are reading which seem to have very few similarities. I don't recall having a more bizarre professor. I've had a few who are very disorganized, some who are young and inexperienced, but not quite like this. He has such weird habits- the gallon jug of water, which afore-mentioned student actually referred to in his rant, and his clothes are really odd. It's really his attitude that bothers me the most. He is so arrogant sometimes, like acting like he's so much smarter than us, which maybe he is but why go around flaunting it to make us feel stupid? He berates our university and talks down to us and is so disorganized and doesn't even really grade our work, yet he expects us to show up for his class and want to participate. This class is so far from what I imagined it would be, and what I really want it to be. I love to write, I want to learn how to write better, but this class is not helping much, except perhaps for fodder for future stories. "The Absent-Minded Professor" or "The Professor from Hell", "The Starving Artist Professor" are some titles that come to mind.

Haven't written here in a while. Very private stuff I've been writing lately, I guess, stuff that I feel uncomfortable sharing with the world, even though I don't think anyone reads this.
Yesterday was my mom's birthday. I took her to see The Banger Sisters. We brought home Taco Cabana for dinner and I ate it, even though I felt nauseous. I watched a little TV then I went to my bedroom to lie down. A couple hours later I threw up. Disgusting. I can't imagine how bulimics do that to themselves all the time. It is nasty and gross. I didn't even go back to my apartment last night, I just stayed there in my old bedroom and slept for a really long time.
Today we played Scrabble and I lost miserably and I'm watching the Emmys and neglecting my homework.
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I started reading Microserfs. It's a little dated (from 1993-1994) but it's still pretty good. Reading it makes me feel like a bona fide geek because I "get" so many of the technology/pop culture references in it. I suppose that's what I get for being a CS major. Three or four years ago all that stuff would have flown right over my head.

I got a $10 parking ticket today, my first, for parking on the dirt next to the parking lot and not in an actual space. There's a first time for everything, right?
There's no junk food left in the apartment. I should quit typing and run to the 7-11.

This guy Chris sat next to me in graphics class today. He asked me for the homework in my OOP class. He's in three of my classes this semester. I get freaked out when people try to be friends with me for no reason, especially people I kinda/sorta like. I've changed my looks so much since spring semester- I've gained maybe 100 lbs. I'm surprised anyone recognizes me anymore, much less still speaks to me.
I forgot to pay my rent on the first of the month. I remembered only when my card didn't work in the gate after I got back from taking a walk.

Feeling hyper. I just ate about 20 cookies and drank a Red Fusion- who wouldn't be hyper? I watched a few hours of TV, finished my homework, now I'm trying to calm myself down and wait for that queasy feeling in my stomach to go away. My dad gave me a George Foreman grilling machine. It's purple to match the kitchen.

The pastor's daughter is getting married. Next year. She's a year older than me. So is my sister's friend. She's a year younger than me. I'm at an age where people get married. I used to assume if you were married, you must be older than me. No more. I might get married- ten years from now, if at all.