stunt_muppet

So, what do you get when you roll together an author-crisis, an upcoming quiz, two upcoming essays, a philosophical crisis, general listlessness, too much candy, a headache(which probably comes from staring at this fucking computer all day), and a disinclination to do anything?

You get more bitchy journals is what you get.

*headdesk*

Comments on fics and journals are forthcoming, I promise. When, I don't know, but they're forthcoming.

I do have an entertaining anecdote from this Friday, so I am in fact here for a reason other than to bitch.

This week, R was doing the "Big Sisters, Little Sisters" program, wherein an upperclasswoman was assigned to be your big sister and anonymously left gifts outside your door each morning. I had no idea that this was happening this week, so the arrival of a case of Diet Coke, several bags of popcorn, and The Princess Bride was a pleasant surprise. As was everything else that arrived that week (including a delightful Valentine's Day card that I'll probably take a photo of).

Earlier this year, when I joined R, we had to fill out a survey with our favorite movies, candy, drink, etc. One of the questions that was asked was "What is your favorite alcoholic beverage?"

I don't drink. Actually, let me put that another way - I don't drink for fun, which in college means I don't drink. The only alcohol I've ever had has been wine, and that his been in Spain, where the legal age is 18. I do not drink at parties and I never have anything stronger than wine. This stems partly from my desire not to have an alcohol citation on my permanent record, but mostly from my paralyzing fear of getting drunk. I am scared to death of what will happen if I get drunk.

But I'd rather not have to explain this on my survey, and saying "I don't drink" seemed...I don't know, somehow snobbish. So, just for kicks and giggles, I wrote "Red wine" as my favorite alcoholic beverage, knowing that nobody would be serving that at any party in the foreseeable future.

Apparently, our big sisters figured out what to give us based on our surveys. So imagine my surprise when I come home from work-study on Friday and find a bottle of 2005 Mondavi Pinot Noir and a wheel of Camembert sitting by my door.

Me:...oops.

So...now I have a bottle of wine in my room. I do not have or a corkscrew or anything with which I might reseal the bottle. I'm probably going to end up drinking it, because it would be a waste for her to buy me a bottle of wine and for me to just waste it. Besides, I am acutely aware of my limits when it comes to red wine, and I don't plan on drinking it recreationaly.

I still feel like a snob, though. How much you want to bet that everyone else asked for light beer or cheap tequila? But no, I asked for a bottle of wine, because I'm just too paranoid good for anything else.

On another note entirely, I am still feeling desperately inadequate after yesterday's run-in with LitMag. I have responded by not writing and binging on Valentine's candy, sending my ill-fated diet straight to hell.

I desperately want to write something other than fluff or angstyfluff. That's all I've been doing recently, and while I enjoy doing it, it just feels pathetic and meaningless now. Like that's all I do because I'm incapable of doing anything else. Even just within my fanfiction (which I should also stop writing so that I can start doing *real* writing like I'm supposed to), I feel like I'm just churning out sugary, worthless confections - the literary equivalent of cheap chocolate and empty calories. Can I even do serious anymore? And why don't I want to?

Ugh. Speaking of cheap chocolate, I think I'm going to go drown myself in it now. And frankly, that Pinot Noir's looking really good. Maybe if I was buzzed I'd feel better.