Quicksort

I did tell you that I'd nerd out anytime, didn't I?

Anyway...today was a surprisingly eventful day. I'm going to go into detail simply because I realised that when your brains going BONKERS inside, the only way to make sure you get some shut eye in the night without
- messaging someone to feel better (and waking them up...oops!)
- listening to my ipod for so long that I wake up feeling like a mummy (the embalmed ones)
- hopelessly tossing and turning and adjusting my pillow (it is NOT FUN)
..........is to Blog. Yup, that's right. I feel this strange..peace when I write. (Were you hoping for something way cooler, like sensations or visionary power? bah. Writing is too human for such things.) After a point I don't even care if someone reads it, I just want to write just to get it off my head and my neck. I don't know why everyone says.."get it off my chest". When I'm feeling terrible I get piercing, sharp pain in my neck. Medical explanation, anyone?

So anyway..today we had this Oracle Placement test in college..which was okay I guess. But there's just something about tests...I shudder at the very thought of testing my intelligence, watching a score on paper and restricting my absolute brain power to a mere number, a mere formation of pixels glaring at me as though to say, "Ha. Numbers rule your life?". NO, I am not a fan of math. (Didn't you guess?). The funny part is, I used to be. But that was before numbers screwed me over.

Let's not even get to the "you're wasting potential" talk I always get.


Anyway...the test was fine, everything's fine, but something's bothering me. And I have no darn clue what that is. Maybe it's the fact that I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life. Maybe it's my birthday coming up..and boy, is that going to be a sobfest. I detest growing older. It just reminds me of how little time I have left to have fun! (Yeah, I'm still immature enough to think that anything beyond the married phase isn't fun. Just shoot me.)

I don't even know what I'm doing for my birthday. (Don't roll your eyes, please). Normally it doesn't matter but this time the parental units are putting a lot of pressure on me to decide (I really don't know why, they normally wouldn't be bothered till D-day.) And since I really don't know, I get so whiny and irritable and very...pig-faced everytime they ask me. I so wish I could be decent and talk to them and figure something out...

By the way, what the hell is a pincushion?

Also, today in class, I was reading about quicksort..which neatly partitions an array and sorts it. (Okay, geek stuff over. I promise). Wouldn't it be cool to have a quicksort done to your life? I want one. One that partitions, organizes, while I sit back and watch the chaos and dirt become order, Monica Gellar Style.

Then i'd have the time of my life messing it up again.

Mood swings really bring you down. You can be feeling perfectly peachy, and then..BAH. Me, social, amicable (I dearly hope) me, just doesn't want to look at anyone or even get out of bed. I don't know if the monotony has gotten to me, but I do know that its majorly because there isn't even a teensy, weensy thing to look forward to. Am I the only fool like this?

This had better be gone by tomorrow morning. Its exhausting, surviving a whole day with the same mood swings. I'm more used to about..fifteen a day.

Ah, I feel better. One percent better. That counts for something, right?

For those who read (and I salute you, really), sorry for this ranting, raving post. But if you ever want to rant or rave or anything, you may feel free to contact me and we can set up a ranting, bitching session and maybe even form a ranters' anonymous, heck we can even be well known.

And if you don't want to do that, tell me this- how on earth do you survive without cribbing? Is it an art? How can you not vent? I dearly hope this doesn't fall in the 'You have to be born with it, my dah-ling' category.

And now, I intend on taking some deep breaths and drifting off to the land of nod. No, no, insomnia. I am beginning to find a way to escape you.