Mmmmmphhhh.

I'm exhausted.

How do I know this? A few reasons, actually. After staring out the window of the bus for three minutes, and then wondering why my eyes hurt; I realized it was because I hadn't blinked for the entire three minutes, lost in my thoughts. Or rather, lack thereof. I'm approaching burnt out. Unfortunately.

I need a massage. Badly.

I need a nap. For days. Just call me Rip Van-fucking-Winkle.

Today a project I've been working on and off of for three weeks got completely rehauled. All of the colours were changed on a very detailed piece, all the images were resized. I lost some composure with one of my favourite teachers, even though I apologized profusely about half a minute later, I still felt bad.

There's no rest for the wicked. None at all. Strange thing is, I haven't been able to get into anything wicked in an awfully long time. A pity.

Devin didn't play my song that I requested on his podcast. *frowns and pouts* Well, screw it, then. I'm going to play it on mine. Next month when I get the chance to make it. Prince, "Kiss" kicks some solid-gold-ass, and I'm slapping it on the beginning of the next GSD installment. Take THAT, Mister Pike.

Whine, whine, whine. Bitch, complain, moan, whine. Temper tantrum, temper tantrum. Bitch whine complain, whine bitch, mope, cry a little. Fall asleep... Whimpering.