My morning slumber was most unpleasantly disrupted by the urge to violently puke my guts out. I had three slices of pizza the night before, so maybe it was something I didn't eat as I slept by a drafty window? Hmmm...anyway, after the last remnants of my technicolour yawn had been spewed, I went back to bed feeling better. Woke up at ten, checked the cinema listings, and bingo!
Spider-Man 2 was on! And so my thesis work took a backseat, and I have no regrets. Wicked movie, better than the first. Better than
X-Men 2. In fact, I think it's the best comic book movie ever. Lots of laughs, lots of heartache...I'll be damned if I didn't end up feeling like Peter Parker albeit without the super-powers. Here's hoping I, too, get a happy ending...
Lots of progress: spent practically the entire day on research. The next stage is sorting through over 70 pages (size 9 Arial, plus page breaks), in addition to the pile of books Dad dropped in my lap. I'll get to that tomorrow...provided
Spider-Man 2 isn't out at the cinema. If it is...well, first things first, har har.
Had a weird dream: so I'm in a car with this photographer who I seem to know in the dream, but can't recall in real life. Female. I decide to take a nap, and the next thing I know, I'm in the photographer pit at a Limp Bizkit concert. After getting my bearings, I finally realise that we're in Bali (probably making up the gig that got cancelled a while back). I tell my photographer friend that I don't know how the hell she got me to Bali, but I'm not letting her out of my sight lest I get stranded there. Anyway, the gig's just about to start, when suddenly the band sort of falls apart, Fred Durst berates them for being "irresponsible" and storms off. The rest of the band just shrug their shoulders and walk off as well. I take a female band member aside (since when have Limp Bizkit had girls in the group?) and tell her that the crowd could riot. We end up looking for Fred backstage, but he's probably hidden himself somewhere he can cry without being disturbed. And then I woke up. The end.
No, I don't know the point of all this. Then again, weird dreams seldom have any point. Maybe my job is starting to get to me and it's taking over my life? Hmmm, looks like a vacation is in order; that is, if I actually had vacation days...
I officially have 17 days to ensure that six years I've spent in university don't go down the toilet. Actually I've known the deadline for several weeks now, but as usual, I've been suffering from sitting-on-my-arse-too-long syndrome. Today saw some small progress: I used the internet to actually look for something relevant to my thesis. At the moment I'm around 15 pages and some severe editing away from completion. I'm sure I can pull it off, but I've just got to reign in the smart-arse slacker who thinks he can get it done with two days left on the clock. I foresee my mood will be extremely nasty for the next three weeks at least, so if you're wondering why there's a stick up my bunghole, well now you know why.
