The Prison of His Days

I've been around, mostly. Reading the ol' flist. I've just been...I dunno. Burnt out? Lazy? Around other people all the time, thus getting all my talking done IRL?

I'm back up on campus for the summer, working at the Art library. It's good to work somewhere no one looks at you funny when you smell the books.

It is deathly hot. I love the Science Library. It is full of air conditioning and love.

I'm sucking at writing. Sucking. I need to fix that. I do.

I've also been spending the weekends playing egregious quantities of videogame. By which I mean, last week I went, "Strangely I have a craving for Triple Triad", and came back to myself, stunned and horrified, when the PS prompted me for Disc 2. An isolated occurrence, you say? But then it happened again this weekend with the next disc! I am a binge gamer. It's a problem.

Well, mostly because weekends contain no verbs to perform.

Other than write.

Fuck.

I am such a failure.