It is 11:18PM on a Tuesday night

and an untouched slate of Microsoft Word is staring blankly at me, willing me to "WRITE SOMETHING WRITE ANYTHING"

but it's not just anything I have to write; it's a GP essay,

and my head is not letting me knuckle down to this arduous task.

...I used to love writing essays.

WHAT HAPPENED, LIFE?

...WHAT HAPPENED? LIFE.

On the bright side, Imogen Heap concert on Monday! which yes, is a school night, I am well aware. But when a pagan priestess reaches out her open palm and in her other hand sizzles a staff thrumming with low electronica; you do not say no.

Vectors 3, I promise you I will do you the next night.

WL: "I will bring my camera. And I will take infiniteloads of pictures of me standing next to Imogen Heap. And me singing with Imogen Heap. And me kissing Imogen Heap."

Cara: "...and Imogen Heap slapping you. And Imogen Heap calling security."

; soft-skinned Delilah took a scissors to your shoulders but Samson's growing his hair back out again, and I'm glad, and I hope for the best.

okay now getting late. time to get properly started on GP

gotta face tomorrow like BAM