ReadingLirael, As You Like It, The English Patient, Heart of Darkness, Suikoden III, Candidate for Goddess
Watching House, Rick Mercer's Monday Report, Gilmore Girls, Scrubs, Corner Gas, Aishiteruze Baby, Prince of Tennis, Hikaru no Go
Playing The Bard's Tale, Katamari Damacy, Curse of Monkey Island, Final Fantasy VI, Disgaea: Hour of Darkness, Pretty Barbie Dressup Party Final Fantasy X-2(group gaming)
Back-burner Star Ocean: Till the End of Time, Star Ocean: The Second Story, Final Fantasy Tactics: Advance, Baldur's Gate: Tales of the Sword Coast, Planescape: Torment, Final Fantasy VII
Obsessing Firefly, Erik and Ray, Impulse/Bart Allen, Ford Prefect, Monkey Island, Nostalgia.
Upcoming Things of Importance January 5 First day of classes January 14 Birthday party January 16 Jaryn and Matt Are Old Day
layout
Is by Meimi, that wonderful Goddess who brings joy and happiness to the hearts of Ingrids.
This time, Meimi brought joy by doing a layout of Isumi Shinichirou and Waya Yoshitaka, of Hikaru no Go. It is full of wub.
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When I take over the world, I'm eliminating money, dammit
1/6/2005 04:25:53 PM
"The Riff I know wouldn't kidnap a Torg from another dimension and try to pass it off as genuine." "Well, I was under the influence of a 'psychotropic drug' project that backfired." "That's the Riff I know." - Torg and Riff, Sluggy Freelance.
More and more often, I wish my parents had immigrated to Sweden or Norway when I was small. then this entire stressful problem of money wouldn't exist.
I went to buy textbooks today, so I checked my bank balance first to see how much I had.
$250.00, more or less.
I bought four of my six required textbooks, which cost almost $210.00, leaving me with about forty dollars in the bank, with my cheque for internet and such on its way to Calgary. A cheque for almost eighty dollars.
I did the only thing I can do in this kind of situation - called my mother, who has a broken ankle and can barely manage to work for an entire morning, and told her while trying not to cry, asking if she could possibly forward fifty dollars or so to my account so the cheque doesn't bounce.
She promised to see to it, was perfectly kind and patient and not at all angry with me, which somehow made it worse.
I hope the post office doesn't suffer some strange flux of actual promptness that would result in my cheque arriving before the money is in my account.
It's not right. I don't like having to ask my mum for money, I worry that it's not something we can afford, even though I know we aren't in the same financial position we were in when I was growing up, and I feel more guilty than I have words to describe.
I try not to buy groceries very often, never eat out, not spend money on anything besides food and rent and books and internet . . . and I still end up having to make these calls.
I'm sitting here, wondering if I should crawl back to the evil store and beg for a job - I can work weekends, and my entire afternoons Tuesday and Thursday are free, and all my weeknights. I'm wondering if I should pawn some of my stuff. The futon, my chairs (I doubt I can pawn the ratty arm chair, but the kitchen chairs are good and made of real wood), the coffee table, the kitchen table . . . Pawn shops take furniture, right? If not, well, I can pawn my PS2, I guess, and my games, although I don't have many, and the TV . . . then I wouldn't have to pay shaw for any of that stuff. I could probably pawn my scanner, too . . .
It's just so bloody disheartening. How do the people who blow money on beer and drugs manage?
Fight for the beer
1/5/2005 07:41:46 PM
"C'mon, Uncle Rafi. Soon you'll die and all your secrets will go with you. Teach me. I've got nothing better to do, anyway." - Fatima Maharassa, Friendly Hostility.
I got back on Sunday, I've just been too lazy to log into blogger and, uh, post. I'm clearly a horrible human being, but we already knew that.
One of the things I got for Christmas was a vacuum. But not just any vacuum. A pawn shop vacuum. With a plastic grocery bag around the handle full of numerous vacuum bags. My father assured me that at least one of these bags would fit the vacuum.
I tried it out yesterday while supper was becoming edible, because I told my invalid mother that I would. And then it tried to kill me. I tentatively ran it over the area where my boots usually live for a few seconds before there was a loud noise and the front detachable part and the bag rammed, at high-speed, into the wall.
I want to take this as a sign that the vacuum cleaner is possessed, trying to kill me, or at least of the opinion, which I share, that I should never clean. Unfortunately, if I do, the dust bunnies will probably perfect their nuclear laser bomb flying submarine tank, and I don't know if my books could withstand that.
Aside from that, today I also learnt that the purpose of government is to protect the beer. Or so says my new polisci professor, who looks kind of like Santa Claus, if Santa decided he wanted to go for a sort of stubble-beard look. He's certainly a very animated professor, a huge contrast with the other new professor I met today. He's not Santa Claus-like, not funny, not animated . . . I dread the class already.
My marks are finally trickling back in - far from stellar, of course. 74% in political studies and 78% in gothic narrative. I sigh, I hang my head in shame, I squirm, I thank Coconut Monkey that I got 100% on my Shakespeare midterm. Maybe a decent mark there will keep my average in the range of respectability.
Back to the quiet life where nothing happens, Almighty Ingrid, Signing Off
