Trompé Setsuled (setsuled) wrote,
Trompé Setsuled

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Days and days and days and the occasional night

I've two birthdays to take care of to-morrow--my biological father's and my friend Magious's.

I'm terrible at remembering birthdays. I had to be reminded of my biodad's last week, and as for Magious, I'm just lucky I dropped into his workplace to buy batteries to-day or I'd've totally missed it.

In the past, the only birthday I've been able to remember on my own is my sister's, and I’m beginning to feel slightly guilty now about only giving her a quarter for her birthday. So maybe I've three birthdays to take care of . . .

Why'm I so tired??!! I stare this screen and I'm only barely cognisant of what I'm typing, yet I got plenty of sleep last night . . . Gods, I just looked at a post I made on Trisa's journal and noticed I typed "righr" where i meant to type, "right foot". What's happening to me?

I started class last night and I think it went basically well. It's a British literature class and the teacher seems kinna cool. She reminds me of Lorelei Gilmore from Gilmore Girls a little bit. Real funny, intellegent, and interesting. Although she seems maybe a tad overzealous about women's rights . . . but that's okay. They're worse faults, if that's even really a fault.

I learned a few days ago that Johnny Cash is doing a cover of Hurt by Nine Inch Nails--I'm not even fucking kidding you, I even checked the official Johnny Cash website which is at I think (it has a sound clip on the splash page that came on my computer really loud of Johnny Cash saying, "Hi, I'm Johnny Cash and welcome to Johnny Cash dot com,").

It really astonished me, as did the fact that Fiona Apple's gonna be on the album (on another track), yet Trisa did not seem at all wowed when I mentioned it to her, which kinna unbalanced me.

Not to be hard on Trisa, mind you. I mean, she's once again been the keenest feature of my days lately. She's in the Brit Lit class with me, and so we hung out a bit . . . She convinced me (without the slightest difficulty) to sign up for the class she has to-night, Death and Dying in Literature, which promises from its title to be wonderful fun . . . I ought to go to the college cashier and *yawn* pay for it.

I'm so glad I know Trisa. I love her--She's like a . . . uh . . . a real nice punch in the face? I unno . . . I think I should put my brain back together . . .

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