53. (Free and legal, I swear.)

Okay, ten minutes. Go!

I'm sitting at work and I have absolutely nothing to do and all I want to do right now is go home and relax. School started up again today, joy of joys, but I think that most of my classes this semester will be okay. Nothing like the last two--nay, three--nay, four semesters, in which I had super-irregular attendance because--guess what--I just don't give a damn about school. I really don't, and nothing anyone has done has managed to change my mind. But, it doesn't matter, after this Summer when I pick up my last electives I'll be done and graduated and off to find a 'real' job in the 'real world' and marry my real fiancee. September 22. If you're reading this and I haven't told you, it's probably because we haven't spoken or whatever in a while, or that I just don't want to talk to you, or that I've (forgive me) forgotten that you're someone who would like to know. Well, now you do. I'm getting married to my girlfriend-cum-fiancee Candyce on (hopefully, if the date is still open in a couple weeks) September 22 of this year. A date chosen for several specific reasons, one of which being the season, the other of which being that it puts it safely beyond the reach of school. By that point, I'll be done, which is why I'm stressing and pushing to finish up by the end of the summer. Were I not getting married, I could laze away an extra semester or two and be fine (I'm not complaining, honey, just making a comparison) but on the downside I would feel even more indebted to my incredibly giving parents (I'm sorry we haven't paid rent in a while, Mom and Dad) and that, in the end, would be far worse than stressing out a semester.

Five minutes.

I consider myself something of a compulsive person. I stack books here at the library to a certain, measured height. I pick my nails without realizing it. I soap up in the shower in the same order (arms, chest, stomach, manlybits, back, legs) every time. I have routines. I have systems. And they work. And sometimes I slip out of them or whatever and it's okay, honestly it's no big deal. So I'm a little compulsive, but I'm not crazy. Even if I do seperate all my WoW (World of Warcraft) loot into seperate bags (vendor junk, quest items, food/pet food, leather/minerals, crafted goods) and move said items around while getting pwned (poned) by whatever I'm fighting. I'm picky. Can't help it.

Two minutes.

I'm off work soon, and then this writing will end. I'm writing, literally, for the sake of it. No purpose. Just whatever comes out of my brain and out my hands.

Less than a minute.

And soon this writing will end. Tomorrow I start my first real Fiction Writing class. I'll be sure that stuff gets put in a place where people not around me all the time can read it, either here or on DA or in NR.

And time's up.

52. (Where?)

I need to start writing in here again. As it is, I really haven't had anything to say.

Um...

Just say 'no'?