Aaaah, this weird things people eat during college years. God knew what He was doing when He made microwaves.
Life's not that bad here, not really. Not cheap, but also not that expensive, given we're living in an apartment that could be a definition of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.
Every single thing brand-fucking-new, down to cutlery (is cutlerly countable? ugh) And a fast internet connection. Most important.
God, I need some sleep. I can't remember the last time I went to bed before 2 am. Another life, maybe. It's just-- so much college-related stuff to do, catching up with the rest of the world is quite impossible before midnight. Stuff you sacrifice to BA in English... Never knew I was able to do that. Oh well, at least some classes are interesting. Exhausting, but interesting. Pity descriptive grammar isn't one of them. Life would've been so much easier.
*off to buy rice waffles*
I should read Beowulf
now. DO NOT WANT. I mean, I know it's cool and stuff, but-- no thanks. Maybe next week. Month. I'd rather sit off my ass during psychology classes (Freud FTW).
And there's so much published
slashy stuff to catch up with. I just re-read Killing Time
(God, I wish I had the uncensored version), read The Price of The Phoenix
(so fucking chaotic-- and slashy; human-Vulcan bonding FTW), and three stories from The New Voyages
: Ni Var
, and The Winged Dreamers
My God, The Winged Dreamers
. So. Fucking. Epic. Here, have a passage from it:
Spock reached for the computer, and then his hand hesitated. He turned in his seat and
looked down at Kirk. In the depths of his eyes something was kindling. His face was intent
with what was almost a dawning joy.
Kirk stared back at him with mild alarm. "Mr. Spock?"
"Jim," Spock said in a whisper, "why do we have to leave here? We can stay. Just you and I.
We don't need those others."
"He's off his head." McCoy grunted. "He's finally cracked."
"No. The thing's finally got to him," Kirk said, climbing out of the command seat. "It's offering
him the one thing..." He stopped abruptly, realizing that he was giving too much away. He
ignored McCoy's startled look and went up to the Vulcan.
"We can go down to the planet," Spock explained reasonably. "We can be together,
Fuck. Ing. A. How the hell this got published? (and not only published, each story's got an introduction written by one of the ST TOS actors; TWD
's got DeForest, Ni Var
-- Leonard, and The Mind-Sifter
-- Bill, which means each one of them read that particular story; it makes me happy in a perverted sort of way)
And two more ST-related things before I go (English Literature classes; no fucking way am I going to miss these):
Yesterday I watched STXI Gag Reel
on Youtube. Some minutes later it got deleted. Found the second one and before that got deleted, too, I downloaded it and uploaded @ sendspace: http://www.sendspace.com/file/xnawsq
And the last one:
The most squee-inducing Star Trek fanfic ever: The Little Vulcan
'Kay, off I go. Live long and prosper,