I've got a LITCULT paper I thought I'd be submitting tomorrow, and heaven knows how much I'd bleed for it. Heaven also knows the painfully blank slate that cost me my brain's credibility with sir.

It's not even for the right reason. My mind was blank before he came in.

But anyway, bad enough that *I'm* doing the bleeding, but I've got him thinking about the points for it when I asked (kind of begged, actually; but he offered to help me. So effing sweet ^^) for help.

And now he's dying over his thesis. Whoo. I'm such a selfish slug. A selfish, selfish slug.

I try not to be...

But hell. He's not helping. :P It make me glad in a twisted sense. *bricks self* SELFISH SLUG.

But going back... I won't submit it tomorrow. We're having dinner/dessert though. And Ima make it up for him! Somehow.

My agony's delayed 'til Wednesday... but thanks to a coffee-hyped brain (his; mine won't work either way), it won't be so unbearable.

Curse you Lacan. Fudge you, Saussure. You too, Culler!!

Wait. Maybe not Culler... BAH. Forget it.

I CURSE MY BRAIN!! My apparently very philosophical colloquially retarded brain!

Tagaytay trip event report tom. Oh wait-- Tuesday. The wine created so many memories. Cheers all.



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