True To Form, Time Is Passing

I'm halfway through my second week back with lectures and stuff, and gosh, it's all just so... similar-but-different to last term.
Things have definitely been strange, and I've been relatively busy, hence lack of updates / letters posted / any kind of general friendship duties to those not in the ::university:: area. My sincerest apologies.
I guess sitting down and trying to make sense is just slightly daunting at the moment.

Today I posted a cheque to Pilgo repaying the money I owe him. Subsequently, my budget is now so tight it's practically painted on... John is working again though, which means I don't have to feel guilty if he treats me to a meal every now and then. And my estranged father made noise about sending money my way. Guilt is a wonderful motivator.
Probably a good thing, too, as my budget doesn't cover the fact that I need new jeans and probably a new coat. Coat isn't too bad - zip keeps breaking, and I keep fixing it. Jeans are... um... well, I'm still wearing them, but those who knew me in first year college know that I will wear things to the death. They have a hole that has no right to be there.
It's both in a convenient place and a very inconvenient place. Convenient in that most people aren't going to look in that area very often and unless I sit with knees apart you can't see it anyway... Inconvenient in that if I forget and lounge or sprawl... Yeah. It's not that big.
I'll live, hehe.

We're doing poetry in Creative Writing this term, with lectures from Paul Farley. Already I've clashed with my arch-nemesis (she's not my arch-nemesis really, but only because I'm too lazy to care that much and she's probably oblivious to my occasional seethings). Form and stuff are important, yay! First assignment was to write an unfunny limerick, and an acrostic.
I wrote loads, and eventually decided on these two to submit. I don't think they're very good, but my poetry is usually for me, darn it.

Untitled Limerick:
Her heart was a ready-made cage
Her hands being twisted by age
In her lap lies a book
Telling all that he took
Sixty years she'd been turning the page

Freedom:
Frantic beasts that stink of fear
Retreat to what we knew
Each bullet riptides through the air
Each glory is disturbed
Desperate hand and bloody tear
Omit fear without words
Maybe if the firing stopped our silence would be heard

As I have put on the submissions site, yes, I did mean 'omit' and not 'emit'. Both actually work, amusingly, as they have almost opposite meanings, and it just change the overall tone of the poem. And I needed a word that began with 'o'.
Haha.

But my arch-nemesis has made suggestions that the English language is inferior, that prose is inferior to poetry, and that unless you've lived in at least two or three different countries you can't have any proper cultural influences. Okay, last one a slight exaggeration - she has made it emphatically clear that her own skills come from living all over Europe and speaking 6 different languages, though.
I'll stop grumbling. Honest, I will.

I'm in another Star Wars game on Thursdays - yay! Spike's running it, and it is pretty much systemless, which is super cool, 'cause I always feel like a total newbie with complicated systems. I get to play a Jedi, hee hee. Or at least someone who's Force Sensitive and about to train as a Jedi - set after Thrawn and all that, but before the Yuzhang Vong(sp??).

It's weird dating John as a system ref. The sacred notebook that no one was allowed to look in is now sitting a few feet behind me and I can read it at my leisure, should I wish to. Most of it is stuff that I was allowed to know before, but I can also learn what all the other characters' magic items do (even when they don't know). I might just go mad from the power.
Of course, he's going to get me to type it all up at some point. Mostly because I type much faster than he does and his spelling becomes interesting when he's operating a keyboard or a phone. I try not to mock him. I resist the urge to correct him all the time. I'm learning, honest!

Goodness, I could rant on about roleplaying for pages and pages, and I really ought to do something a little more constructive (more poetry, I'm thinking, or tweaking my vampire downtime). So I will desist this flow of information, and hope that it satisfies those of a curious nature.

No promises about any kind of regularity, I'm afraid.

[Damn. Forgot to make a doctor's appointment. Not that I want to make one, but I've been experiencing shortness of breath lately and I had asthma as a child, and I'm already in trouble over it. When I casually mentioned my random allergic reactions to insect bites (anyone remember me being abducted by aliens?) to John a few weeks before the end of last term, I was severely scolded for not mentioning it to him and evilbilbo previously (as first aiders). Later I realised I hadn't mentioned the asthma either, and for a while I kept it quiet, before finally confessing, and then placating him with wide-innocent-eyes. He didn't exactly buy it, hehe.
"I sort-have might-have kinda had asthma when I was a child... Um... I'm guessing that's one of the things I should have mentioned to the first aiders?"
*glaring* "Yes."
Apparently he can refuse to let me go on the lives if he thinks that it could be dangerous for my health, and this threat was waved at me, but he's agreed to just bully me until I get an appointment.
And I forgot. Again.
Oops. Bad Lentil.]