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i write and write and write in volumes

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Nov. 27th, 2000 | 01:37 am
mood: anxiousanxious

I have discovered that I am very verbose compared to the typical livejournalist. livejournalist... is that even a word? Ah, well.

So my flight back to loverly NYC was 4 hours late. Four. Hours. This means 4 hours of lost time that I could not afford to lose... I needed to be doing work for writing sweatshop, and I lost the time and I have no way to make up for it. I guess I'll be not sleeping tomorrow or tuesday in an attempt to get everything done... and I'll still be behind, but I have all weekend (thursday, friday, saturday, sunday) in which I've got very little to do and I can use that as catchup time. Everything will eventually work out fine, I'm sure... but this week and next are gonna be really painful.

It also doesn't help that my mother is having major surgery on thursday. Major as in 5-8 hours, huge incision, 4-14 days in hospital recovery, 6 weeks at home following... and that's best case scenario. So I'm going home for it. Originally I felt guilty spending the money for plane tickets, but then I discovered some things about how my dad spends money in totally ridiculous ways and decided that this is not ridiculous in the least and also that if something went wrong and I wasn't there, I would never forgive myself. That statment is more meaning laden than I am going to explain here because I have had a long day and I am tired.

So I am going to bed... and planning to get up early for the purposes of doing writing sweatshop homework that I did not do today as I was intending to had I gotten home at a reasonable hour.

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