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Friday, November 29th, 2002Everything I said yesterday was a lie. I did not, in fact, stay up all night writing and swing dancing. At 2:45 I finished reading my book, promptly said "fuck it" and went to bed. I just keep screwing myself over, don't I? Tonight, however, I am working. I will write at the very least a detailed outline, including quotes from the novel and the history textbook, as well as an introduction and possibly a conclusion. Why am I so determined, you ask? Well, it's simple, really. My housemates are having a party downstairs and I have no desire to attend. So I will lock myself in my room under the pretense of work, and no one will bother me. Now, sure, you might say that I'm being antisocial. You might even say I'm being downright rude. You'd be right, of course, but I don't care. I dread parties in my house, mostly because my housemates end up inviting all their friends from Morris, and I'm deathly afraid of them all. I don't know why, but I am. So I'm going to hide, and hope that no one finds me and I get some work done. I don't know how well this is going to work, though. I may end up going downstairs in a bit and drinking my one Strongbow left over from Hallowe'en and chatting with someone.. I can't imagine who, though. I want to work, though. I really, really do. Because I still have three essays to finish before I can start studying for finals, and I really don't want to mess up on the exams like I've messed up on the essays. Aarrrrgh! This is torture!
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