Aries Moon

I hate being in this mood, this horrible, halfway there, twitchy need to have everything be over with now, now NOW. I don't want it to be another two months until I graduate. I don't want to slog through with the next eight weeks. I don't want to work on my paper anymore, I'm sick of thinking about Chinese prostitution and Victorian morals (it's the Victorians that are getting to me, it's always the sodding Victorians). I'm sick of my bad playing and the Bach sounds terrible and I've already invited everyone so I can't suddenly throw off my ethical mantle of purity and fake my final after all.

I've finished my take-home test (Big Test Numero Dos got split into halves which is great since I now have merely eighty instead of 160 definitions to memorize by November 5th), I've emailed my study buddies, I've put about six hours into the paper although I don't really know what I'm saying yet but by golly I'm writing it down anyway. I feel virtuous looking at the enormous pile of folded laundry, fresh sheets on the bed, food in the refrigerator, clean and tidy cat area, and a vaccuumed house. I'm pleased with myself for writing down all my upcoming social obligations on my calendar instead of trying to juggle them in my head. I don't think there's room in there. It's full of population figures for Chinatown in the nineteenth century, worry about a friend's health, musings on the dissonant theme representing Stalin in the first movement of Shostakovich's Tenth Symphony, the pros and cons of changing from Fleet to Capital One because those bastards at Fleet won't lower my percentage rate even though I am a so-called Valued Customer, and random thoughts about cheese. Mmm, cheese.

Lest you picture me slaving over intellectual pursuits and domestic chores I have made time to watch the Giants bury the Angels and then get buried, tried out a new Sichuan restaurant which sadly failed to live up to expectations, bought my father's birthday present, bought myself the Buffy musical on CD, and spent a couple of hours with my Sims.

Krystyn is now an intensely glittery Sim living with Gillian Anderson at her request. I had Dawn Summers and Britney Spears move in together as Dawn is such a fan of Britney's early work. Their house is sickeningly girly. But the big news is I redecorated over at Steve and Rick's place because I found cool wallpaper with motorcycles on it.

Come to Papa

Steve ignores "Flame," his red and white '57 Bel Air, for "Mojo."

Rick Sim's not too hot on it, the ponce, but Steve Sim digs it. He likes to hang out with his new Sim Harley because it doesn't chatter incessantly to him with innocent, goofy happiness about what a swell fellow he is and what a brilliant writer he is and tease him about talking like Speedy Gonzalez, blah blabbity blah. It just sits there gleaming, sleek, mechanical, silent, virtual. Manly.

I quite fancy tuxedo shirts

Rick decides to call Giles, the one man who appreciates his sartorial splendour.

Just like a Real World episode! Will Steve and Rick reconcile their apparent differences? Will Rick ever agree to mess up his hair by riding Steve's Harley? Will Steve ever wear anything besides bowling shirts? Will Dawn cramp Britney's style? Will Krystyn and Gillian get the glitter out of the Love Tub in their backyard? Next time on "DiaristSims!"



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