I wanna get fizzickle

Ahem hem. I did end up having enough energy to be social after class on Tuesday. It almost killed me (afterwards, when I remembered about having legs and lungs and all that bunch of bull ass) because there was a lot of walking to distant points on campus that I never go to, and a lot of laughing and shrieking. That is what I do in mixed company now: laugh and shriek.

Which brings me to, what constitutes mixed company? Please to tell.

Then on Wednesday I was running around and being ushered (ushered!) here and fro, to get my hair cut, thank you yes, and etc, and then Brad (strange new person in life) picked me up and we went to the end-of-term department-related creative writing party. If that sounds amazingly awesome you've got good hearing. We in creative writing know how to get down and drink a cider or two. OR TWO.

Needless to say I'm a cheap drunk. Now more than usual (even) because I've lost a bit of weight and a lot of strength, so it all goes through me and makes me crazy. But fun crazy. Limits are fun, guys. I love and embrace them. Much as I loved and embraced lots of people at the party. But only in a joking way. Ha-ha. Many people were wasted beyond the telling of it. They made me look good.

Or not good, but sober. Anyway, that was fun, but I was about to pass out by 11:00, so we left and I came home to my bed. I don't hate my bed anymore because I'm not always in it, see? Limits, bed. You can't have all of me.

Now I'm overtired again, yet again, again, because my last fiction class and last class of all, this term, was today. I love fiction and love my professor with all my hearts and heart pieces. The reason is, he made me feel good at writing. That's all it takes. But he's not going to be teaching us next term, for some stupid reason probably involving The Man. Rage and sadness for me, yes. Instead some DUDE is coming in, who I will certainly resent and/or hate at, named Kevin Blanketyblank. Go away, Kevin Blankety, noooooooobody likes you.

If this post seems manic and crazed, it is, but I'm not. Not particularly. I'm just tired, as I mentioned above. Today after class I went out for drinks with my fiction people, and now I hate Growers cider forever. First because: it sucks, we all know this, but I've been back to drinking it lately because I have no tolerance and it's weaksauce. Second because: UBC is sponsored by Growers, or some goddamn thing, and all the bars on campus refuse to stock Strongbow or anything reasonable, and instead have big chalkboard ads for Growers. It's embarrassing.

Over than that, today was good, and it didn't run too long. I sensibly excused myself long after my single horrible peach cider to head home, but ended up giving a friend a ride to Clark and Broadway. That's like, out of my way? but I was very heroic about it. You can imagine.

So now I'm here and I've been resting up, as they say, and I hope I'll be at least this lively tomorrow. Because what happens tomorrow? I don't know yet, but it will probably require some serious hardcore being alive. I hope.

Is it obvious that I'm not so depressed anymore? Even at night? When I'm tired? Well NOW IT IS, SUCKER. You fall over. End of strip.