Straight No Chaser

Noodles, Oodles of

whew! that took some bravery. finally bit the bullet and deleted the two weakest items in my portfolio, both of them from writer's cramp prompts during that week when i entered just about every day. they're gone; how freeing; i don't have to look at them and cringe anymore! thank god.

at twelve minutes to eleven pm i am trying desperately to write a paper on gilgamesh, protagonist of the sumerian epic that for two weeks has gradually destroyed whatever interest i may have once had in classic international literature. not that i really had any to start with; the class is for a department requirement and i was unexcited to begin with, but now it's turned into something positively bloodsucking. dr. warner, hear my plaintive cries--i have nothing to say about mesopotamian ANYTHING, including textually corroborated modern gender dynamics. especially that, in fact.

and my room is a mess; clothes are piled three feet high on the floor, which smells laughably like pine-sol; caseless cds and dvds are stacked on every square inch of available surface space; the bed hasn't been made in days...

i'm not a slob, i'm really not. krystle says the state of one's living space reflects one's state of internal peace, and even if that's putting it a bit dramatically, she might be right. last night i swung from one end of the mood spectrum to the other--happy to be at the symphony with marcus, livid to get trapped at a drunken soiree for four hours afterward, thrilled to wind up in his arms till six in the morning anyway--and the room, likewise, is spotless in one or two places and disastrous in others. and i can't clean it because of gilgamesh.

plus i'm itching to post something and none of the contests in effect right now are quite what i'm looking for. plus i'm thirsty.