Dear God, I feel completely brain-dead. The weekend that held such promise has been pissed away by my sloth and adoration of my couch. Though things began somewhat social- I went out Thursday evening with my father’s friends and attempted a grill-out Friday afternoon- I have, for the past two days, spent the entire time in my pajamas indoors. For example, I am currently wearing my pajamas. At 8:05 on a Saturday evening.

To my defense, however, the quarter is bound to get unbearably busy any moment now, so I suppose if there were ever a time to slip into a Seinfeld/beer-induced coma, this is it. I’ve enjoyed myself, I suppose, with the exception of that horrible dizzy feeling one gets after sitting and staring at screens too long.

Hey, I mowed the lawn today. I saw the sun. Don’t hate.

Next week I begin training for a server position at P.F Chang’s. The job is the most ideal I could hope for and probably the most lucrative available, but is quite a commitment for the three months that I’ll be in Cincinnati. Training will take a couple of weeks, at the very least, and I need money now. I needed money last week. Things are getting dicey. Though I realize I’ve spoken of monetary woes many a time on this blog before, my bills have always been minimal. So minimal they hardly classify as bills. Now, however, I have rent to pay, as well as medical bills for a Jameson-induced ordeal that occurred while I was on co-op. It’s actually an enormously amusing story that I will tell in depth sometime later, provided everyone promises to suspend their judgment, well, indefinitely.

Classes are off to an abnormally slow start. We had been told that summer classes were noticeably more lax than conventional terms, and indeed the rumors are true. We’re designing a power tool, and I’m very excited with my idea. After watching my mum attempt to use floor edgers on multiple occasions, I’ve decided it’s finally time that they were improved. I have many ideas for the redesign, some reasonable and some completely out there, so I’m not too worried about the project at this moment in time. My floor edger will be awesome.

I think I want a tattoo. At least I have begun the process of contemplating one. I adore typographic tattoos and am considering getting one of the Dostoevsky passage I posted earlier this year. Both my father and Cindy think it’s a horrible idea, which is not too surprising, what with them being parents and all. The gears in my little head have begun to turn, and the thought of a huge passage on the side of my torso intrigues me.

This post is scatter-brained and sloppily written, but I must settle for whatever absent-minded dross I am able to force out of myself. I haven’t written in quite a while. Eloquence will follow with time.