Fast Blood

So.

I have been utterly unproductive. I've filled out one application form. And I haven't finished tidying or begun to pack. I should pack. I'm going to go out after this in fact. 

Hums. I get nervous whenever I think about later. Later, I am meeting the sibling. Not my the sibling. Someone else's the sibling. This worries me. I am not good at meeting people. I have been a dickface to many a [another college] interviewee over the past two days. What's going to happen when I meet someone who actually matters? Bums. I mean. I guess it doesn't matter. All that matters is the someone else. But.. argles. I *hate* meeting people. 

....

Nope. I can't do it. I can't just make a statement. It needs to be qualified. Damnit. I don't hate meeting people in the generic sense. I hate meeting people who I will see again, or that I have to form some kind of relationship with, or who I suspect of being cool and similarly minded. Because then I turn into Twatty McTwatterson. And that's not so fun. 

So.. 

Why are you bored right now? Because boredom is the only reason anyone reads this. And boredom tends to be the only reason why I write it. Bordeom underpins a whole lot of systems, y'know?

Personally, I am bereft of emails. And people. Emails and people, people and emails. Such a modern kid, me. I was getting like 3 an hour during term. Now, I'm lucky if I get three a day. Although I suppose that's good in the less distraction sense. And it means I can focus on the stuff behind the emails I do get. So really, I should be focussing on cushions. 

Cushions are a rare breed you know. The pigmy cushions have been kept quite well in captivity but sadly the great cushions have not done so well and require much more work to source. If needs be, we will have to capture some from the wild; even though this would risk our lives. The wild great cushion has a beguiling manner, allowing you to cuddle and squeeze it. However that is all an act, to lull you into a false sense of security. Once you have positioned it near your neck, the cushion cushes and covers your airways, suffocating you with its downy form. 

And now, back to normal programming. 

Sorry about that. Too much sugar. Or something. 

Anyway. Boxes. Etc. 

I wonder if the medics' pfp thing has finished yet. I should really know this. 

I'll be back later to ramble about something. 

~over and interlude