It has been exactly one month since my last blog post. I know, I am extremely neglectful of this poor little blog. Especially considering that in the month since I have last posted, I have done approximately nothing (unless you count watching Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood as something productive, which, sadly, society doesn't).

I'm so lazy I barely have the motivation to wash my clothes. I still haven't gotten around to it for this week (and it is Wednesday). I keep rationalizing my laziness by telling myself "How will anyone know if it's dirty if there are no stain and it doesn't smell? Really, I'm conserving water. I should be given some sort of recognition for being so eco-friendly."

Showers have also become a taxing labor, as I have to choose every morning between sleeping an extra 30 minutes or washing my hair. We all know that college students need more naps than toddlers, so I almost always want the extra 30 minutes. Being female, however, makes it extremely ridiculously hard for me to not wash my hair everyday. It is a good thing I don't have any dry shampoo. If I did, it is entirely possible that I would bathe only when people started avoiding me.

If you didn't know, school has started again for me and, just like last semester, I find myself feeling more and more zombified every day. All I want to do is eat flaming hot Cheeto's and sleep (also not considered productive). I have many things to say about the semester thus far, but I don't have the energy for that right now.

Tangent in 5....4....3...2...1!

I have to laugh at this, mainly so I don't feel any more moronic than I already do. On Friday, I have to wake up at 5 am (it exists?!) so I can get to Calculus by 8:30. First off, why would anyone in the history of academics think putting a class so early in the morning could possibly lead to anything good? Anyway, I stumble out to my car around 5:15 as it takes me about three times as long to find my keys in complete darkness. It is very cold and dark outside and unnervingly quiet. I clunk across the porch and begin climbing the gentle incline up to my car. As I am about half way up the hill, there is a rustling in the bushes.

As my mind begins to do cartwheels and replay everything I know about serial killers and I feel certain death is near, a peacock emerges, walks over to me, and squawks "Heeelp" and scampers off to do whatever it is peacocks do (I do not literally mean the peacock said "Help." This is what they sound like when they squawk). I giggle to myself over my active imagination. I continue up the hill. I step in a pile of frozen leaves and instead of just going with gravity and falling forward (the direction I was walking) I decide to wrench my body around so that I fall on my stomach and slide to the bottom of the hill.

Once again, nature has proven it hates me. I am lulled into a false sense of security by the lack of a serial killer only to be defeated by a pile of frosty leaves. My road rash may be healing, but my distrust of nature will never fade.

Wish me luck at the ocean tomorrow.

O rly? You want to go this way? You better send your friends for heeeelp.