Long Day

I'm making another post because I have word vomit and because I'm trying and failing to avoid going crazy about this test tomorrow. Also because Ondrej said I look "horrible" and stressed, and that just won't do. Stress is so bad for my complexion.

So far this week has been pretty stressful all around. I had a ton of homework due yesterday and I wasn't able to get it all done. Sometimes I feel like my creative writing class gets shunted to the sidelines a lot because I don't deem it as important as my other classes. So my short story is going to be a week late. Also I seem to be having a lot of moments where I get to my car and I can't find my keys in my bag and I have a horrible few seconds where I think I locked my keys in the car. [insert expletives of choice here]. Excuse my French. Eventually everything turns out all right but I've had too many scares.

I wrote a poem about Sheba. It goes like this:

Regally self-important

and dressed in a robe like forest shadows,

she lies

draped upon the chaise with an air of sovereign grace

languid and lithe.

The electricity of her power is hidden,

only betrayed in the tiniest charged movements

and in the way her yellow eyes follow you

observing with veiled interest.

Her limbs, long and shapely, are revealed

as she unfolds herself from her repose,

drawn by your beckoning hand,

to knead;

her needle-sharp claws digging

as she purrs a homely song for your love.

I know Sheba doesn't have claws but I put it in anyway for the sake of style. All writers are liars anyway. It's sort of supposed to start out just sounding like a pretty lady or a queen or something, and the cat part is supposed to come as a surprise. Tell me what you think.

I have to go take a nap or something now. I wish there were Cheerful Motivation pills. There probably are but I don't want to get busted for doing drugs.

-Amy