Gnashing My Teeth

So. Well, for starters, Infinity didn't get the reaction I'd been hoping for. I liked the story, I thought it was satire and it didn't take itself too seriously and I enjoyed writing it.

There were a few people, humorists and populists and Miss Bates, who agreed, but the artists and poseurs of the class, the Literati, were pretty unenthuased. No one seemed to want to talk about the story; Dintenfass had to prod them. They seemed to think it was… average.

As Dintenfass pointed out (though not in so many words), I have yet to write a character who can walk. None of my stories have any action; they're all sketches.

And I don't think I'll raise the bar with my next project, which looks like it'll be an epic work of semi-autobiographical angst. It had better be epic, if I'm going to reach my page-total goal.

I studied the wrong chapter for a Linguistics quiz today. I was, in fact, two chapters off: it was on Syntax, which we covered more than a week and a half ago. That was a painful quiz. I was the last person to finish.

Also disheartening is the latest news on London. I heard today that I've been approved for winter term of next year, which was my second choice. I was really looking forward to going fall term… The Politician and Rock Show Girl will be there then, whereas, winter term, Jonas might be there.

I thought that my qualifications (read: seniority) and application would be enough to get me the Term of my choice, but I guess I was wrong. And now I'm going to spend the rest of the term grousing about this and wondering if I did something wrong with my application.

And wondering what classes I signed up for Winter Term.
And wondering how cold London is in the winter.

And wondering what I'm going to do next year for housing.
I always worry too much about housing.

My complaints are pretty petty, I know. "They didn't like my story." "I'm going abroad during my second-choice term." "I did bad on the quiz."

It's a true tragedy. No one suffers like I do.

On the plus side, I don't have to worry about where to stay during September. I can go on a European Tour with the Brainerdites and then just go home. This in no way changes my plans for August. It puts me in a foul mood, is all.

Also, I've decided that most of the human race is pretty annoying. I think I'm going to have to stop being picky, if I'm going to be around people a normal percentage of the time.

I know I sound like Jenna, with all this vaguely antisocial self-discovery, but between my tendency to find fault and the human tendency to disappoint, few people can please me. There are, at most, about ten people in the world who don't annoy me on a fairly consistent basis, and most of those people aren't in Wisconsin at the moment.

Actually that's not fair. I ran the numbers again. It's more like a dozen. The rest don't meet my arbitrary standards. When did I become a misanthrope?

Along the same lines: When did I become an extrovert? That's what's making this frustrating, after all.