Eight... Nine...

 Urrrrrrrrrgh. One problem with parent- they make you fill out scholarship applications. Granted, they weren't big complicated ones. But I can't write ANYTHING with my mom hovering over my shoulder, trying to give me advice. Okay, yes, she is trying. But not in a way that is helpful. At all. Particularly when I was about to start drawing.
Why do I do service? I don't know. I just do. Sometimes it makes me happy, or is moving. But I am not about to recreate those times in my head to remember the feeling at ten oclock at night. Anyway, normally it's not attached to any particular feeling.

What I find more annoying is that I know I'm  not putting much effort into it when I could. Curse that concience thing. I could write something very nice and eloquent without sounding like a thirty year old... but I don't want to, not at the moment. Not at night, when I want to start relaxing my mind so I can fall asleep, because my brain needs that.

*sigh* Time to lie in bed and listen to some Anuna, I think...