Analyze This

So let's figure out the bizarro dream I had last night. I dreamt I was marrying Justin Timberlake (of all people!). So I'm back home in Birmingham, planning the festivities. My brother and his friends as well as my mom and dad are there... and several members of *NSync. (One noteworthy exception is that Lance is not there, which is odd as he is my favorite.) Anyhow, I think I'm in love with J.C., not Justin, but I continue with the wedding preparations. And I feel officially like a whore. One day Chris walks me home, and he is distinctly chilly to me, and I'm trying not to make him think I'm in love with him or something. Then right at the end of the dream, I realize that I'm going to be the envy of all the Big Bopper crowd. I'm thinking that I'm going to be in People magazine, and I'm loving it because (in the words of Ani Difranco) I'm not a pretty girl. I don't think I was even thinking this in the context of post-Justin/Britneyness, I was just so proud that I snagged such a high profile fella being me.

What's that about?

So, in other news, I have quite a bit to do today and no motivation at all to do it. This coupled with the fact that it will officially be dark in 2 hours makes a girl (read: me) just want to go back to sleep until I have to leave on Tuesday. Might as well save up my energy for my time as an international traveler, right? But then there's the whole plaguing issue of those 500 words I still have to write on my article critique, those 2 journalism articles I have to write and -- more pressing -- the course test I have in Key Texts in Drama tomorow morning bright and early. (This last one actually is important because that's the only class that has potential to count as a grade, yet it's the one that I care about the very, very least.)

In other, other news, I watched about 8 displays of fireworks from my window last night and then travelled a little to watch some more fireworks at a friend's house. Fireworks are pretty, and I like them... I must say that being an American, I associate them with patriotic music, hot dogs and 4th of July, so watching them from a puddle on a terrace in the middle of a rainy night in England didn't quite do the deed justice to me. But I got to hold a sparkler and regress back into childhood for a moment there, so I can't complain.

In other, other, other news, I am counting the days until I can return to my adopted home, New York City. And I have recently found out that I have the opportunity to get a $3,000 grant from Midd for doing an extensive creative non-fiction project in association with my internship. I need to think up a brilliant, sophisticated idea and write an even more brilliant and sophisticated proposal ASAP, so anyone who has ideas for me, send 'em to me quicker-than-ASAP. $3,000 would relieve all my guilt about mooching off my parents as a matter of course for the past 6 months (give or take my entire life).

I'm out.