Nov. 8th, 2004

raven: [hello my name is] and a silhouette image of a raven (the gift [zimba])
I suck beyond comprehension. Am disorganised, unattached, uncalled for interview, uninformed, unfriended, underage, underachieving, and suddenly really really bored. I shouldn't be. I have three essays to write, last count, one of which I have attempted to write four times and just gone Ctrl+A+Del every time on account of my sucking so much.

Am beginning to suspect I may be a tad depressed.

In other news, I had a mental moment of black comedy on my way home. I was thinking about, among other things, how much I suck, how much Avril Lavigne sucks, whether JK Rowling knew depression was a "black dog" when writing about Sirius, whether I won that eBay auction, what happened to Newt and Anathema, whether Pedar had a lecture tonight, whether he still wants to buy dollars while the exchange rate is low, whether I should tell him I have two hundred dollars stashed in my bottom drawer, etc., etc., all is well in the mind of me.

Then I stopped to consider a full-blown fic idea, just sitting there in my cerebral cortex. Let us take Crowley and Aziraphale and sit them round a table with Rupert Giles. And then have them argue over which side he belongs to.

I (mentally) laughed. Then, noticing there was absolutely no-one to be seen in a half-mile radius, laughed out loud.

And when I got home, climbed over the fence because I had no keys.

March 2025

S M T W T F S
      1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819 202122
23242526272829
3031     

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 6th, 2025 08:02 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios