Voluntary Injustice

The best way to cure disappointment is to leave a bag of cookies on someone's desk. Especially if they're oatmeal chocolate chip. Point taken indeed, ladies. Have a fabulous Hollywood edition mocktail party; I'll be sure to crash it in my full-on work get-up.



The entire bishopric strolled in tonight while I was sitting, huddled in a blanket, with a ridiculous(ly gorgeous) Russian hat on my head, playing Final Fantasy IX. Only if I had been doing naked pirouettes while eating peeled grapes could I have felt more awkward. I believe the conversation went something like this: "Heeeey, guys. I'm, uh...I'm really busy. Don't let the fact that I'm sitting in the dark being goofy and killing monsters throw you off. I'm taking a break. ...Yeah." To be fair, I was completely esconced in piles of papers for a presentation in Platonism tomorrow, and I really WAS just taking a break.



The consciense is STILL pricking. I don't do getting caught very well, even if it's in my own imagination.