mcollinknight

Obviously I should just stop writing lecture notes after six pages:

And, even more urgently, I should not later add illustrations to these notes:

Cheers,
-Colline

Obviously the Christmas Rush has just shifted to Full Throttle, as evident by last night at work:
Exhibit A) I ordered in pizza.
Exhibit B) I was there until 9:45
Exhibit C) We pulled in several thousand.
Exhibit D) Not only was I helping customers, but there were transfers to be received, orders to sticker, and a full order book. However, it worked out rather well, because I got most of the stuff done, and one lady, while talking to Jake, gestured to me and said (very charmingly - she was a classy lady) "Where did you get this one? She's a gem." Whereupon Jake went into the whole "Colline's been with us since the beginning; we didn't find her, she found us," schpiel, and Classy Lady fiddled with her scarf and I obsessed over Playmobil. I also talked to a lady with an Irish Accent (Jake said Scottish, but he's WRONG) and sold toys to our local representative of the Green Party, Matt (aka, That Guy With A Lisp). The only bad thing was that Sam wasn't there.

I got another job, too. I was supposed to be writing pieces to go on the Ontario Literacy Test, but unfortunately it won't come to pass (again: I dislike committees). It sounded like such an impressive job, and I would have been getting paid to write, and what the freaking hell. I was very excited. They decided that for security reasons I wouldn't be allowed to (by which I mean I have a sister writing the test this year). I understand, I suppose, but it sucks all the same.

I have to have all my university crap straightened out by Wednesday, so wish me luck (the Millenium was due today! I hope it got there in time!). Also, read Animal Farm; that book is CRAZY. And wonderful. And scary.

...but mostly just insane. Peace out.

This morning, lying in bed, listening to tunes waiting for the Entertainment News to come on as I always do, I felt the panic come on.

I knew it would come. It was inevitable, as it always is, only this is much, much worse.

I'm not going to complain here, now. As I've said before, I despise becoming a cliché. I will simply state that I already know now I'm not going to get something done, because there is too little time for too much stuff, a situation that I brought upon myself. I take full responsibility for the consequences.

Of course, then I start down the poisonous line of thought, like this: "Well, it shouldn't matter, because what are a few marks going to matter, anyway? It's not like school is the most important thing. It doesn't define us." Which may be true, but here I am trying to divert myself from the problem. That is not the Gryffindor Way, mate.

Cor, was it treacherous today. The whole word was mimicking my mood, and it took my half an hour to get from le school to work. Of course, me being me, I slipped and slammed my tailbone, also managing to whack my left arm. The venom still seeping, I began devising a 'cunning plan' (as Baldrick might say) of using my injury to my advantage.

Which was petty of me, so all of you, DON'T LET ME DO IT. Cor, this is embarassing. I have no willpower, so I must instead pressure my friends to administer it to me. OK, down-to-the-wire, it's drill time, chin up, dry-eyed, flex your Keyboard Fingers of Wonder, stock up on tea, and ABOVE ALL, do not sway from the plan. The plan is the Way, the Truth and the Life. So be it. Hoo-rah. Huzzah. Heigh-ho Silver, Away! To the Culmination Post, Batman!

It really boils down to this (and I thank you, Beele):

Get 'er done.