october 11, 2000. Huh. This is weird. It's quarter to nine, meaning that my night is almost toast. I still have reams of homework to do. The interesting thing is that I've been kept busy not with silly distractions, housework or legit social tasks, but with other homework. Specifically, computer class homework. We're responsible for a three-page professional web site for next week, using one of those pussy HTML editors, and I'm immersed myself in it. It's not like it needs to be as elaborate & pretty as I'm making it, it's that I can't help myself. I want pretty title banners and contrasting colours in the body. I want images here - or maybe here - so it takes me a while to figure it all out. In the meantime, my other homework is lying fallow. Quelle irony. I've been feeling very strange around my peers lately. I'm on the verge of being comfortable with a handful, yet my energy levels are low and what comes out of the house every morning is a weird, ill-groomed version of myself. Correction: what barrels out of the house; I'm having my usual punctuality problems (the day needs 15 extra minutes, I think.) So I'm typically distracted, hostile & tired by the time I get anywhere. These are, of course, the most attractive qualities I can think of. Why aren't people beating their palms bloody against my door, trying to be my friend? Oh yeah. That. I'm resting on my domestic laurels today, eating leftovers & ignoring chores. Damn it, four solid hours is way too much time to think about recipes. I was very pleased with my roast chicken, however. Even the slimy part of hunting around under the skin for feather bits wasn't so bad - it was kind of interestingly repulsive, if that makes sense (I used a similar phrase to describe my feelings for Extreme Buffy rules to Pixie the other day. What a zeitgeist! Carry on.) It's fun to do hearty, salt-of-the-earth stuff like cooking a whole chicken, I find. It puts me in touch with a Laura Ingalls Wilder energy that I find exhilarating. I also like the idea that if President's Choice folded tomorrow, I wouldn't die of anaemia. Scurvy is another matter.