Daffnee

There are times when it's hard to forget I live on the East Coast, especially when you hear stuff like this on the radio:

"Killington [a Vermont ski resort] makes more snow than any mountain in the area!"

Makes more snow?

I just got my first swath of grades back, and I feel so -- average. It's what I was expecting, but I was also hoping for the same kind of miracle that has happened before: the Milton class in which I only studied 1/3rd of the required readings; my risky postmodernist take on the Wife of Bath; and innumerable other projects that I regaled the Boy (now the Ex) with and for which he has still not forgiven me.

I think I'm just depressed I'm back in school. Not clinically, just generally. Here, the hugs are lacking, and the cookie jar is no longer bottomless.

So school starts again in 9 hours for the spring semester -- what?! I was just getting into the holidays. But at least I know there's a few others out there that feel the same way, including the super kids that got me through my first four months in New York relatively unscathed:



And yes, the last one is me.

It's freezing in my house and I just found out 8 hours ago that my flight was moved back an hour -- no matter, I finished my game, my first full edition of Vogue, and all by the decent hour of 3 AM.

Well, it's back to New York for awhiles, then; but I might be back in March to take advantage of Canadian dental care.

First snowfall in the boonies!

Some genius stole my barely-active Canadian Visa number and proceeded to buy next term's textbooks with it. And I apparently have to get a root canal within the next six months or something in my head will explode.

Props to the SPYOites that managed to save this day from becoming utterly depressing!

Lordy, I feel so popular at the moment -- who knew that short time frames and impending school/work/travel inspires people to reach out and touch someone?

I have a problem that I'd like to admit: I suck at keeping in touch with people. I will send the occasional postcard when the moment moves me and I have stamps available, but more often than not, I never call and growl when phoned. I was under the impression that I called home on a weekly basis, but according to my reliable brother it's more like a monthly thing; there have apparently been times when the family worried that I had met my maker on the mean streets of NYC. (My sister phones home almost daily. I blame her for the unrealistic expectations.)

[Sidebar: Housing in Geneva is ridiculously hard to find. If anyone out there has a lovable aunt or cousin in Geneva that wouldn't mind a well-behaved, nice-smelling billet, could you e-mail me?]

Happy New Year!

To commemorate 2005, I have changed my hair part to the right side.