b e h n d i n g

a couple nights ago i dreamt that i had an affair with the ex of my high school chemistry teacher — a striking redhead with a sculpted upper body who also happened to have metal rods for legs (both of them). during my nap today, i dreamt that a friend from high school was giving me a foot massage while i popped amoxicillin pills.  there must be something in the jersey air because my synapses are on crack.

for the past week or so, i have been studying for the GRE with all the diligence i can muster.  i spend my mornings at barnes and noble, armed with a kaplan GRE prepbook, a cup of joe, and of course my laptop to distract me.  i inevitably spend a half hour or so browsing on the web, which is not entirely unproductive, as a chunk of that time is purposefully directed toward my housing and employment hunts ( in that order, as it happens).  but i am proud to say i do bunker down eventually and hit the book, finding a rusty but still functioning masochistic pleasure in memorizing vocabulary and solving quant comp.  though my days of studying for the SAT in seventh grade are over, they must have instilled a hefty entertainment value to mastering mind-numbing formulaic exercises and convinced me that by choosing the right letters of the alphabet, and making sure i fill in the correct bubble, i can be on top of the world.