In which Lambsie is feverously...feverous.

So be prepared for some form of fevered deliriousness.
His name's Bartleby. My new camcorder. He's shiny. I need to buy him a firewire because he was built to hate Betty. My mac, Betty. But I'm hoping it's a Pride and Prejudice deal, except with electronics. They misunderstand each other now, but soon they shall see the error of their ways and marry and be ridiculously rich together at Pemberley, where they make beautiful films.
I think I want to seduce one of my professors. Maybe because I actually have a chance to be a protégé. I love professor/protégé relationships. They're so possessive and destructive. Oh fuck it, he's probably married.
Why am I sick at the start of a long weekend? I plan on going in tomorrow to finish up some work. Not to run into my professor. What am I thinking? I'm plain, plain, plain Jane and I mean plain as in the euphemism for UGLY and not the in the generic-looking way. I don't even have my cute hair yet. I can't even wear it down anymore because it looks idiotic; it's still layered as if it should be short so it flips up funny and scraggly-like. I need my short hair now and I keep forgetting to book a hair appointment. I need it funky and artsy and notsoplainjane-y. I want it before I go to LEAF.

I am the ugly girl whose skill is (rarely) recognized over her unappealing appearance...though the last few days, several and I mean whoa a lot of (sketchy) men have said some version of "good morning, sweet" or "oi niña" to me on the street when I'm pretty sure I was some form of sweaty or exhausted. I think it has to do with my not-so-easily concealed heaving chest and immense posterior.
But hey, el profesor is impressed by something a lot more solid than looks and he's not hiding it. I feel approved of and, boy, that's quite enough to make my life right now, fever and ugliness and all.

I will not lower this to the level of misplaced desire. This is golden. This is intellectual approval and I am on level with the gods because of it.

Wow, my fever's gone up a bit more. Um...later I guess.

I'm totally gonna regret saying what was initially said about my professor. At least no one knows my name, my professor's name, or even what school or class he teaches at.