tea. instant curry. tea. instant curry. tea. instant curry. log in to diaryland to post a link to "Funk Dat." realize that I already did. tea. wondering if I should go to sleep. yes. wishing I had more instant curry. typing about these shenanigans.

try to remember to set three alarms so that when I hit snooze for an hour half, I still leave my apartment to make it to school in time. business suit.

stuck between heading into the icy futon or into the icy toilet stall. sleep or remainder of tea? "FUNK DAT," in its beats and cadence and overall emotion, is clearly the only response I can muster right now, but it leaves me awake and with a full bladder.

as I exited a handicapped toilet stall at my transfer train station today, I saw one of my students (as of last Wednesday, former students, since graduation is tomorrow). primping herself in the sink mirror. there was nowhere to escape her gaze (damn how mirrors allow that sort of thing, reflection). there was also no soap.

futon face time.