Life is currently lived in short stints of whatever the hell I can stuff between writing essays and sleeping. Finals week. We all love it, and I think most of the college world is currently suffering from the usual infestation of sleepless zombies drooling random facts.

"ANOVA... bioremediation... the protestant house..." And so they stumble between tests and the library, stopping occasionally to feast upon the brains of those damn saps who go home on the last day of classes, having professors that don't assign finals. This, luckily for the zombies, gives them a limitless knowledge of underwater basket-weaving.

Still, much as I may enjoy complaining, it's good to be living so--where your only worries are if you'll do alright on tests and if you'll catch the projectile-vomit-inducing flu that's going around and if you'll ever clean all the crap in your room up. I mean, one could have a worse lot, like no sweat glands.

Or have a twelve days of Christmas celebration like this. I really don't know what I find so amusing about this, but once you watch it, go to the main site and play spin the bottle as well--hearing strange British euphemisms for condoms is the main drive behind that, though. And really, it's good to pretend that such a distraction is helping me study for microbiology.

In further news--if there's one thing I hate at work, it's momentary scares that my hand is stuck to the meat freezer wall. If there's anything I hate more than that, it's being told to go to the meat freezer in the middle of Lou Reed actually being on the radio. Yes, it was Walk on the Wild Side--that's the only one they'll ever play--but I was surprised Clear Channel decided on that selection to go out across the nation at all. At any rate, between searching for goddamned sausage patties and getting my hand glued to a wall a la the tounge-lightpost trick, I missed half the song. And of course, I was chopping onions and got to listen to all of another fucking Crosby, Stills and Nash song. God. No one needs to hear the word "sparrow" in falsetto that many times in one life.

This weekend was pretty good, despite all the studying--went up to Madison to Christmas shop, and actually got someone other than myself a present, for once. I did, of course, also get myself a little something--Pulp's This is Hardcore is now a valuable addition to my life, and served me well all of yesterday on repeat as I attempted to finish a paper on the Unification Church before 3 AM. Sidenote: I failed. I also had a grand time going with a friend to sit with him while he got his first tattoo. Around the wrist, at that--he said it was damn painful, and I kinda don't question that one. The ankle was enough for me, thanks.

And so on I go. Oh, new webring--I suppose even more appropriate for me. I had a pretty clear epiphany on it all--the gender shizz, that is--earlier today. When it comes down to it, I've got to do the laundry and throw out old pizza boxes like anyone who can decide which gender they'd like to stick and whether or not s/he should have an organ with which to stick. Claiming an identity seems more like something reserved for those not secure with their own nice shade of grey--maybe being actually able to say "Hey, I'm this sexuality, and that's that" affords you with a nice community. But I've got that already, without nailing myself down.

So I'm going with this life--or what I can get in after writing up this lab.