late comers: form one line please

I know that everyone "cool" (and by cool I mean people who owned iPods before, say, 2008, frequent dance clubs with strobe lights and overpriced beer, who wear labels of clothing that I can't pronounce or involve some kind of surfing/skating/skiing/riding motif and who probably stay up way past my bedtime) has probably been rockin' out to Fall Out Boy for a few years, nay, a few decades, but I've just now gotten in line. Yes, I realize that cool people do not use the phrase "rockin' out" but we've previously established that I am not cool. (The jury is out on whether I've evah been in that crowd. Cameron/Lynn - don't answer that. I've got dirt on you too.)

Anywho (again, cool people don't say that), I enjoy them. Him? It? I frequently jam (not cool) to "It ain't a scene, it's god damn arms race" whilst running. It's got a good beat for running. Especially halfway through a 5K when some of use need that extra boost.

The Boy also helps when one is up late night (post 9:00 pm) writing papers. Papers that will not die. Die marketing paper. Die.

"I am an arms dealer.
Fitting you with weapons in the form of words
And don't really care, which font I use*
As long as the I get an A on my marketing plan*
That's just the business I'm in."

*my personal touch. It's getting past my bedtime.

paranoia: 1, daphne: 0

For the first time in my blogging bloggerhood I deleted my prior post. If you missed it, you missed some ranting and raving about not trusting people, namely the Mr. There could have been an f-bomb. I got it out of my system. Nothing to see here. Move along.

However, I do have some issues with trust. That is not made up. I have boundary issues. Mostly having too many boundaries, too many walls. I probably should be on medication for depression right about now, but I'm not. It's not that I have anything against meds. Some of my finest moments in life would not have been possible if not for the modern pharma machine. I just don't have tiiiiiiime to get all experimental with my brain chemicals. I've got to be high performance for the next two weeks. Just until my final presentation is over and done with. Then I have a three day interterm class (TBD, still may drop it 'cus of the moolah). After that, just work and triathlon training. Heaven.

Maybe then, when my head is clear, I can deal with this gorilla that's been living in my living room the past few years.

happy birthday to me

Guess how Daphne's spending her birthday?

A. Crying
B. Working on a paper that's due tomorrow.
C. Both A and B.

If you chose C, you are correct. Things are a bit like h-e-double hockey sticks around the HQ these days. I've been writing in my super secret Wonder Woman diary a lot lately, the one with the little lock and key. This, of course, leaves less time for blogging. I'd feel obligated to fix that but my motivation is on the fritz.

No one said happy birthday to me at work today. I didn't mind. There comes a point when kindness is overwhelming to my senses. Let me focus on work lest the water starts flowing again. Actually, I think they think that it's tomorrow since they have a lunch planned for me. Bah.

At least I get to go to a wine tasting tonight. Happy wine tasting birthday.

Got to get back to option B. That paper ain't gunna write itself.