september 19, 2001. Today is Q & Pixie Stix's 3rd anniversary. Unfortunately, I wrote 4 years on their e-card, which should cause some confusion. (The response: "thanks for the vote of confidence!") I'm just an idiot. I seem to be chronically confused about dates & times around Pixie & Q; one memorable year I started a panic among our friends by reporting Q's birthday 4 days early. Either I have a tiny little brain block in this area, or I'm just not firing on all cylinders today. I didn't have breakfast today; I hear that it's an important meal to improve brain something-or-other. Um. Yeah. So anyway, I've been super-ass-busy this week. I've been in university for about 7 consecutive years (almost a third of my life!), but this is the very first year I've figured out that there's an actual cognitive component of my annual exhaustion. It's sad to say, but I tend to spend my summers in a very static holding pattern of brain activity: reading books, seeing friends, working in less-than-stimulating environments - it all combines to make my brain resemble a bowl full of mush. Every September I chalk up this bone-deep weariness to the not-unreasonable excuse of a sudden hyper-charged social life. This year I've felt almost completely antisocial, thanks to my recent trip home to visit my wonderful Ontario friends (why eat hamburger when you can have steak?) and my emotional response to the terrorist bombing last week. (incidentally, my MP3 player just randomly switched to "Rock the Casbah" by the Clash, a song I can't hear these days without a premonitory shiver. If real life was a teevee program, would the almost-inevitable upcoming conflict use this on the soundtrack?) My point being that I've spent every second I can spare from class & work at home, either by myself or with the Boy, so that I really have no social life to speak of. But I'm still tired, of course, much more tired than can be explained by 3 consecutive days that have kept me hopping from 8:30 in the morning to 9 at night. And here enters the cognitive dissonance theory. Getting back to a university mind is hard, hard work, like churning butter from milk. I can only imagine what it will be like if I ever go back for my masters degree. They'll have to wheel me from room to room. That ain't a pretty thought. this time 4 years ago: I bailed on a purely sensual basis, I swear.