Life in the Black

I made Vincent get up early today to go to school with me, and he's currently curled up on one of the recliners, snoozing. Since I was late enough to miss the makeup yoga class I was going to, I figured going to Oracle class would be a waste (no lecture today), and going to my psych class tonight seems like a waste of gas (they're going to be presenting projects), though the verdict is still out on that one. Anyway, I made him get up and get dressed for no reason. I feel moderately guilty. Also, I keep trying to blow all the ick out of my head and he's miraculously sleeping through it. He kills me sometimes. I'll take him out to McDonald's or something when he wakes up to make up for it.

I have to do a collage for my psych project, and we're required to use magazine clippings. The only magazine I subscribe to is The Writer, which contains very little by way of advertisements that could be used to describe society's perception of gender roles (not that I'd cut them up, anyway), so I think sometime this weekend I'll have to go back to Piketon and see if Mom won't let me butcher some more of her Entertainment Weeklies.

Thinking about also experimenting with some artsy things this weekend. I miss being able to whip out satisfactory drawings whenever I wanted. My fingers are rusty.