When did I become the class clown?

In undergrad, I never considered myself to be that funny. I'd amuse people, sure, but class clown? Not unless I was on a great deal of medication and wanted the professor's body sweaty and naked and under my own. (You are SO welcome! :D)

But in grad school, everyone else is less funny, and so my antics stand out more. I've been in class just over one week and have been taken to task for my sense of humor three times by two of my teachers. The best part? The teacher who has yelled at me twice "admitted" to having a sarcastic sense of humor. If that is so, then why doesn't she understand it when I do it?

The second time, she asked if we had learned anything this week. There was a good ten-second pause, and everyone kinda grinned at each other sheepishly. "That silences are still awkward?" I giggled. CUE TIRADE. "No, they're not, they are very effective and here is my ten-minute tangent explaining why." Oh, you're sure sarcastic and funny, all right.

The third time, the other professor stepped in.

Girl across room: "Wren, red looks very flattering on you!"
Me: "Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about the cut of your sleeves!"
GAR: "It reminds me of Snow White!"
Me: "What, are you calling me pale?"
Teacher: "Wren, stop. Stop now."

Class had not yet begun. -.-

...Man, grad school sucks.

I wasn't ready for this to actually be adulthood.

Seriously. I thought another year of classes would be about the same as ever. It never occurred to me that the dynamic would change, or that I would be required to dress up in crazy formal clothes four days a week. Or that, you know, I'd be thrown in with a group of people entirely unused to me, my sense of humor, or how I roll.

So now, every time I look in the mirror, I kinda do a double-take. Brown hair? Wearing the real jewelry, and not the lightning bolts? Is that...is that a cleavage-concealing undershirt?! I don't feel like me. I am convinced that someone is going to walk into my room one morning while I am getting ready and ask me "why the hell are you playing dress-up at 6AM?" And as weird as it sounds, it is really killing my confidence.

And I keep getting bizarre compliments. There are people in the cafeteria that love it when they come in "because I am a great dresser and I always have on something snappy!" Or, on Friday, I was told "Wren, you're the most cheerful insomniac I know! You're always so tired, but it never makes you any less pleasant to be around!"

Someone called me cheerful. Did my caustic bitchery go the way of my hair? (Should it have?)

Assignment that's due today

Since I can't draw...I had to Photoshop my Emotional Reaction Chart thingy.
(Don't get me started on the actual merit of this assignment.)Click through for large.

NOTE TO FUTURE WREN:

You have just received conclusive proof! STOP OVERANALYZING.

Love,
The Nike Slogan

I sleep now.

Ahahaha. Ha!

I let Bossman Prime install a copy of Spore Creature Creator onto his computer. He loads it up. First thing he does? Grabs the biggest, freakiest bird beak he can find, and puts two of them on his creature's ass.

I used to love the sunrise.

Then I got old.

Ohman. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have fifty pages of novel notes to sort through and update. It's amazing what writing 100 pages of a book will do to your clarity regarding what is happening in the universe. Right now, in between chapters 11 and 12, I could tell you off the top of my head what every single character is doing. (Seamus is working with the refugees, but how is that a surprise? Perhaps Elene should make them cupcakes. Those two are going to have to battle it out for "who's the nicest person on the planet" award. -.-;)

Matt has moved back in, and we are in the process of attempting to put the house back together while we also foster two reptiles for The Muses while we wait for the RCC to do his or her requisite invaspection. I'm pleased to have someone else to cook for, and I think he's just happy to have a home. I keep having to remind myself to stop wandering around naked, though. Because of this, my morning routine has become a bit more complicated than it used to be:

1) Wake up.
2) Turn on computer.
3) Pants?
3a) If pants, then 5.
3b) If no pants, then 4.
4) Find pants. Ohgod, where did they go I walked in here wearing them.
5) Make tea.
6) Trip over cat.

It used to just be wake up, trip over cat, turn on computer, make tea. Pants make everything needlessly complicated.

Ugh.

Plan: Spend day face-deep in computer. Fix boot issue.

1) Started with the BIOS.
That, uh....actually seemed to have worked. If not, it's time to fuck about with the RAM.

Screw you, Maker's Mark.

Oh God.

We've really spruced the office up.

EEEEEEE.

Shameless Self Promotion

And on my own personal blog, no less. Go figure.

As my book (I feel weird calling it that) has gotten longer, and people have given me more and more amazing feedback, I've been giving more and more thought to protecting my story.

Maddo being totally paranoid helps.

Today I had one of my epiphanies and made a private, invitation-only blog to host the chapters at. This way they can stay together in an easily-viewable format, and if it gets stolen I have a short list of people to torment and murder by fire.

Also, now I can put the glossary up without making everything all confusing!




In short, now is your chance to get on the list if you ever have any interest in reading. Those of you who I know read it have been sent an e-mail, but if you've not gotten one, leave your e-mail here or IM it to me and I will give you sign-in directions. Hell, I'd sign up just to see how damn awesome the layout is. That's the best layout I've done in six years of blogging.

Testimonials from those who read it and like it are also welcome so people know I'm not completely off my rocker. Just sayin.

Ugh.

One week later, and I feel almost normal, but I am not sure a single round of antibiotics is going to fix this.

Just proof I am not dead.

Yergh.

ER Saturday. Severe kidney infection, not allowed to move for next two days. Have done nothing but sleep. Am bored of sleeping.

A: Filter

I have this problem where I open my mouth and words come out. Is there anything that can fix that?

Decontextualized Words of Wisdom

"The caged squirrel cannot stash his nuts."
"Like he'd want to stash his nuts with you."
"Well, of course not! Do I LOOK like a knothole?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
"The answer is no. Obviously."

It's like...

Bahahahha.

Wednesday I was handed a stack of A papers with glowing comments written all over: "Terrific! Thoughtful! Honest! Clever!"

I huffed them. :D

In retrospect this is obvious.

Note to self: There is nothing wrong with buying lube, or deciding to hide how faded the couch cushions are. But when you buy lube with a slipcover, be prepared for odd looks.

Fine, Maddo. Here I go.

*sporfle*

Grave shifts are all about the productivity.

<--And I am a fucking GENIUS.