my head, jesus

I've been having incredibly vivid dreams for the past week. Most of them are having to do with some kind of apocalypse. Usually nuclear bombs. I'm not sure what they mean, or if they mean anything at all. They're pretty much all the same; either there's a bomb about to drop, and I'm freaking out in the dream over it, or it's just dropped and I have to go out and scrounge for food among the wreckage. I usually manage to wake up right before the bomb actually drops, but the second time I had that one, it scared me so much that I kept glancing up at the sky, looking for airplanes or silver eggs.
Last night was interesting, but non-apocalyptic. I'd slept for five hours, messed around online for five hours, then went back to sleep for about ten hours.
( So this is what happened... )

...and then I woke up. Goddammit.

My roommate just handed me an envelope. "Oh, I forgot to give you this, but it was in the mailbox." Lovely. It's from Dad...
I have calling cards. Awright. I'm now able to call people on my own without having to beg my roomie to let me use her phone. Send me your phone numbers, guys. I don't have an address book.

And, lily_lemony...I got your magnets. SO. AWESOME. :D I am sticking one of these on every metal thing I can find in my room. My bedframe is now protected by Dr. Mordrid, watched over by Crispin Glover, and is authorized by Miskatonic University.

And hey, I was going to make a post about how I was afraid I was coming down with some kind of horrible disease, but I took some Airborne fizzy stuff and ate a bunch of oranges and now I'm totally OK. I think all that vitamin C clogged my system so much that germs can't get through. If I wake up tomorrow again sweating with the sheets off, a headache, and little "oooweeooo" sounds in my head, I'll know it didn't work.

Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices squeezed from goblin fruits for you.

Roomies have commenced upon an all-night Nickelodeon marathon in the dorm, so I must study phrenology and hysteria in the dorm lounge, where nobody ever goes. God, these books are great. I've found three, one of which is just a collection of Victorian medical papers about mental illnesses--there's even a little chart. I now have a new excuse to prod my head. "I'm learning about my character flaws!"
Victoriana Class is now my favorite class. We're doing poetry; right now it's Robert Browning, with "Goblin Market" by Christina Rossetti to break it up a little. Prof. Alton has encouraged me to find textual evidence in "Porphyria's Lover" that "the moment she was mine, mine, fair/Perfectly pure and good" indicates that he strangled her at the moment of orgasm, and that the Duke in "My Last Duchess" had his lady killed because he thought she was having an affair with a man of lower rank, not just because he was a snob and she wasn't. I also appear to be the first person to ever compare "Goblin Market" to "Labyrinth." (We must not look at goblin men. Especially not at their bulging, Spandex-covered fruits.)

Ah, what was the point of this extra little entry? Yes, I remember! Valentine's Day challenge for me! evillunch has embarked upon one, and I feel I ought to do something special too.

Here's mine: I will write a little poem, a couplet, quatrain, limerick, or haiku, about your choice of kink, fetish, or pairing, for the first fourteen people that comment here. Or whoever after that, really. I will attempt to do it by Valentine's Day, and post the results then.