It would be an understatement to say that I am feeling less than ideal today. I had planned a joyous post about the excitement of both Miss J. and I on choosing Halloween costumes, however, after being on my PC for about an hour the screen went blank and the power was lost. This makes the 3rd or 4th time that this has happened to me so far within a month period. My rational side is pushing me to retire this old thing into the closet and use a loaner until I can invest in a new MAC, however, the irrational side of me will probably wait until the damn thing explodes and every essay, photo and anything else of importance will be lost forever. It'll be just like that episode of Sex and the City when Carry's laptop crashed and she lost everything because she never backed it up on an external hard drive.

Besides the medium that connects me to all of you, there are a ton of other things on my mind, like how stupid it was to get my hair done yesterday and then precede to the club last night for my bff's birthday celebration, knowing that the humidity created by too many bodies in a single space was going to make the style go flat. Or how much I keep getting overly irritated by the little comments Miss J.'s dad keeps making about her lack of perfect ponytails. He has one more time to mention anything about hair to me before he loses an eyeball. He makes it seem like I just let her run around looking a hot mess while I walk around fresh from the stylist's chair. Get the fuck outta here with that! Listen. I spend the majority of my days cooped up in classrooms being pumped with loads of information that I will soon have to apply to building a career, so nobody's hair gets combed every single day in my house. What right does he even have to comment anyway since he has never picked up brush, rubber band, nor comb and sat or stood for 30-45 minutes making sure that every tear was wiped and every part was straight. Like I said. Get. The. Fuck. Outta. Here. With. That!

Then there is still the thesis that I am fighting to find interest in. I will fill you in a bit later on my change of topic. Yes, the Statute of Limitations is out, enter Black Erotic Performance. Let me just say that this process generates so much stress that last week in class a fellow classmate literally came close to throwing up. There are probably about 15-17 of us in the class and this process evokes something different in all of us. For the most part, being forced to spend a mountain of time thinking about a thesis leaves me near convulsions so I'll just leave it at that for now. If not, my mind, right along with my PC will be on its way out.