(no subject)

 Damnit.  Leave it to me to forget that the DOL in Lacey is closed on Mondays.  Ah, well.  New license tomorrow.  And I'd better not lose THIS ONE. 

Today, I'm spending a very productive afternoon stealing things from my mother's house and trying not to bite my nails.  I've gone for months before, so there's no reason I can't do it again.  And, y'know, I don't have to keep them short at the moment, since Sarah's gone.  

[ /bad lesbian joke ]

I always thought it was really funny, though, that I started growing my nails out last year after I got pulled off the phones at Livebridge for 2 months of training.  They were so long and nice and pretty at the end of those stress-free months, and then within a week of being on the phones again - gone.  It just figures.

I actually came across a site on literary terms the other day that used the phrase "escapist fiction" in place of genre fiction.  Doesn't that make it sound so sordid?  It's all pulp and whatnot.  I like the term "formula fiction" even less, though.  Finding this term inevitably led to me spending another hour on Wikipedia, which is a cause rather than a cure for my insomnia, I've found.  At some point I found myself on a website denouncing metadata that was simply entitled, "Metacrap."  Funny stuff.  I personally found things like MARC records sort of interesting when my mother taught me about them a few years ago.  It can get silly, I do admit - but so can making up words like metacrap.  

I'm sorry.  I'm aware that I make no sense.  NO SENSE.  It is so very crazy being me.

My leg itches.  And my bits hurt.  Not looking forward to the bus ride home.