"Everywhere You'll Find Pieces / Of Cupid and Comet"

Everything's just a bit chaotic right now, so I thought I'd title this post with a song lyric from one of Weird Al's finest - the North Pole's been bombed by Santa, you know.

But where was I? Oh, yes, chaos: literally mentioned less than a sentence before I asked where I was. Apologies all around. Turns out AJ Evert has found his breaking point, and it has sprung from where the following collided: 20 credits, a thesis to write (let's hear it for eight pages into draft two!), and no clear idea of what's happening after my life runs head-long off the cliff that's designated (symbolically, for now) by July 22, 2010. Don't even tell me it's almost less than five months from now. I said don't!

Currently, though, I've got lots of happy little things going on. Like perpetual rain. And all my visitors come... and gone. And the new neighbor who enacts intense, eerily-soundtracked, Lynchian confrontations with strange women in the red-carpeted stairwell of my new apartment building - all visible through the peephole in my front door! And an Astronomy midterm on Tuesday (for which my mental roll-call of awful goings-on honestly JUST reminded me about), which should be a cakewalk since I've managed to wake up for class approximately three times so far this term. And sober Saturdays. I've finally had to resort to sober Saturdays to start getting crap done.

And that makes me a Sad Panda.


But on the other hand we've got the new season of LOST, which impressed me to no end by not making me choose which path I'd rather the creative heads have taken - reboot or no? - by giving us viewers both options at once! Now that it's happening, I can't see it having gone down any other way. Seriously, is there anything more delightful than parallel dimensions? Other than fudge? And Weird Al? (I kid. But only kind-of.) My only concern at this point is that I feel like season six is playing out like any other season - albeit a much more exciting one. I mean, we're only 14 episodes from The End. Shouldn't these characters be putting meaning behind every last step as they march through the jungle? Shouldn't their faces look more pensive, more this-is-it-y? Shouldn't the score pulse its way melodramatically through each and every scene? Yes yes yes! So why isn't it happening yet? I want me some climax!

In other news, Season three of Strangers With Candy is (so far) more gut-splitting than seasons one and two combined, so at least one show knows how to up the ante while the ante still needs upping. Or something like that.

And I wonder why I can't write my thesis?