I am at the lab today, which feels very strange. I am feeling very much older than I was last year at this time, but I haven't a clue why. Maybe it is because my chair has been put on a higher setting so I feel taller. In any case, my hands still know this keyboard, my mind still knows this plastic headachey feeling, and my lungs still do not appreciate the limp, stale air that smells of mousepads and those forbidden, conspiratorial pringles containers.
Steve is . . . well, Steve as he ever was. The websites are still the same. None of my friends are "around" today; I have managed to escape you all by tripping into the last place you thought you'd find me: the gym. I can't believe it that I didn't listen to Lord of the Rings at all this time. Very strange.
I do intend to rectify the situation, though, with several more cds to import and paginate for my ipod. At home. Where my room is clean but for cluttered shelves and dusty floors. And I could do the dishes if I put my mind to it.
Why am I rambling here? Because I can and I feel like it.
My routine is slowly setting in and I can think in a rhythm, now. Very nice. There are rules for my behaviour that I'm setting up slowly, humming as I go. Nothing major, but it does involve a lot of me thinking less about flashing-eyed Academia and more about the physical world of preventing the common cold. Sort of, not really.
Good grief. Right. Well, I ramble. Again. I am a silly girl, who needs to be able to read The Sound and the Fury without entirely mussing up the whole thing. I know Benjy's eyes are blue! I know Quentin committed suicide! Dorkfaces, all of them. I think. I cordially dislike modernism, in all its forms and manifestations. Only, am I cordial? Not really. I rudely dislike modernism in all its forms and manifestations.
And now I have to go. Bye.