why don't I just go to bed when I'm tired?

Just got an email in my Herald inbox, that begins as follows.

Women of Balliol.

As you may have noticed, our college is full of men.

Is it wrong that I find this hysterically funny? I don't know why. It just is. I think I may be overtired. I was writing a horrible essay on anomalous monism last night until about four, sprawled on Claire's floor nursing a philosophy headache (which tend to involve clutching at my head and yelling about lawlike relations), and I was woken up again at eight by, of all people, my chemistry teacher at school, Mrs Colvin. Who wanted to know if I'd come back to school in June and give a talk on Oxford entrance, colleges and general life. I'm happy to do it, but a little intrigued as to how I'm going to explain how to choose a college to apply to. I was originally going to apply to Corpus, and then New. I arrived at a New open day a little early and lingered in their quad in the sunshine; following a which a walking tour in Balliol t-shirts swept me up and away for ice-cream.

I applied to my college because it gave me ice-cream. (And it's good for PPE.) Still, I fear I may not be the person to give advice on this. Anyway! Yes, I was woken up at eight, napped a bit more, ran round like a madwoman and went to a tute where I was assured I had not completely misunderstood anomalous monism, merely got the details wrong. (At least, I think. I was asleep.) I didn't wake up until a very nice lunch at Univ with kuteki, who put up with my significant lack of being-compos-mentis. (And, apparently, grammar.)

The funny thing is, going back to Merchants' do this talk will be quite fun, but there's no one left that I know now quackaquacka and eternalwings have gone. Which strikes me as peculiar, because I started my LJ in the first place because all the cool kids at school had them. (For "cool", read "gothy-alternative-fic-reading-types".) And I think I still have quite a few LJ friends who came with me from Merchants', but essentially, all that's gone. And I don't think I'm sorry. I like it so much better here.

(For people who haven't been with me for donkey's years: Merchant Taylors' is the secondary school I went to up north. It's a fairly good school, but given to wanky-pretension and has had four headmistresses in two years.)

Anyway, again! I went home, took a nap, this made no difference, I tried to do work, failed, went five hundred miles up the Cowley Road to have dinner with chiasmata, who now lives in a very pretty house with lots of bright colours. And I should have gone to bed ages ago, because I have to get up and go to London tomorrow and I don't think my brain can take another night without sleep.

Actually, I blame Many Nights Without Sleep for the breathtaking triviality of this post. There was a point to it originally, I'm sure; I just can't remember what. Er, in sum: I am busy, exhausted, overworked, and I actually don't want to go to London tomorrow and amuse Shubhra, but I must, and I'm sure it will be fun, and oh, my, I'm tired.

Okay, fuck it, there needs to be a point to this before I press the post button. Here, have the contents of my tabs.

Keys, by blue_meridian.
SG-1 fic, humour, Daniel-centric, no spoilers that I can see. I haven't finished it, but am at present finding it utterly charming.

From the New York Times, Bush is planning to veto the Matthew Shepard Act. Urgh. I agree with those who argue that society can't punish a person for what's in their head, but in this case I don't think the motive for the veto is pure noble liberal thought.

The BBC have received a tape about the whereabouts of Alan Johnston; I was working for the BBC when this whole thing started, and there was a real sense of panic even then.

And one of use, perhaps, to narahttbbs's thesis: Going to school isn't compulsory!

Of course I have Facebook open in my tabs! Specifically a picture of me blowing bubbles at the ball.

Okay. Now I can go to bed. I think. Maybe I am suffering from sleep-deprivation.