1. I went in and added half-a-dozen backdated entries from the arts journal I was keeping for class a year ago, because I was thinking about a few of the same things--must be the time of year. If you care to look them up, they're titled "writer's house journal:" and go from the very end of January to the very end of February, before I apparently completely petered out on it, as is my wont with a paper journal. Still, it was interesting to compare my journalling style when I wasn't expecting to be writing for an audience: they're probably a bit more honest in some ways than my normal lj persona.

On a totally unrelated note, the excessively long entry about race and identity which I spent way too long writing up last night is getting consigned to the same hard-drive folder as the previous excessively long posts about boys and sexuality, perception and faith, and ambition and time q: But I think I will go ahead and excerpt the bit about tribe and party, because it's pretty coherent and I think says something interesting about me and the way I've formed identity: ( And sometimes I wish I could stick up a White Pride bumper sticker, except for obvious reasons I never would-- )

2. Also, I can apparently type over 60 wpm when I'm in a groove. Wow. I used to be lucky to make twenty-five. And I seem to have picked up the skill of two-fingered touch-typing -- a couple months ago I'd have said it was impossible, and yet I seem to be doing it anyway.

On a dvorak keyboard, of course-- I'm probably still stuck around twenty wpm on Qwerty-- but who cares about Qwerty anyway?

3. I wore sandals out this morning! Not because it was a particularly warm day, but because I'm the the throes of an acute laundry situation and have no clean, matching socks (or clean shirts. Or pants/skirts except the one pair of jeans that are really too tight to sit down in.) But thanks to said laundry situation, the room is now clean. And also, spring!

4. The song in my current music is one of a bunch of new songs I've randomly downloaded into the laptop from audiography for a background noise. It has somehow become, forever and always, the Donna Troy song to me, despite the fact that all I know about Donna Troy is what I've seen on scans_daily and lurking comics people's ljs. It's been made all the more odd because none of the other songs I grabbed are pinging me as fannish at *all*. (Well, except "The Only Living Boy In New York", which is Connor/Oz post-Apocalypse, but I knew that before I downloaded it.)

EDIT: And so I spent most of last night, when I should have been doing laundry, ranting to myself about how poor white folks are in much the same situation re: societal privilege as any other underclass in America, and I *come* from poor white folks, and I'm *proud* of that. So guess what the only outfit I managed to cobble together to wear today was? Uncle's ratty Air Force jacket, worn-out wifebeater, cowgirl jeans so tight you can see which pocket I keep my ID card in, and since all my hats are stinky too, american flag print bandanna. q: Somebody out there is laughing at me. I felt *hella* conspicuous, especially since everybody else in the dining hall was either Asian, Hispanic, or Jewish. And I definitely got different reactions than I do in my normal blend of hipster punk/bag lady chic/geek girl.