イチ。
I've been thinking that, if I ever get around to making new layouts, I should move this blog to a new address.

Layouts, domain, business, designs...gah! My brain is itching to not study for the two finals tomorrow!

に。
Of course I go hunt for newest chaptres of manga in Japanese, then try to read them with the help of a dictionary, on the nights before finals.

Surprisingly, it wasn't too hard.

Would it be too ambitious to try an itsy bitsy bit on novels now? (Probably, but that's not going to stop me, is it. The finals aren't, so what can?)

News: H.M. Dies at 82

■ H. M., an Unforgettable Amnesiac, Dies at 82

By BENEDICT CAREY
Published: December 5, 2008
Henry Gustav Molaison, or H.M., was recognized as the most important patient in the history of brain science.

My Human Memories professor had H.M.'s obituary, written by Dr. Corken(?), but it seems that only the NYTimes and AP versions are available.

Breaking from the results of procrastination.

ハイ、お久しぶりです。日本語はもう中々忘れてしまった様ですね。

Yes, I am currently in the middle of suffering from my completely, guiltily conscious and self-inflicted results of my avoidance problems. 

Yes, I am currently in the realm of 'I'm screwed and is past the redemption point, shit.' 

[Redemption at Amazon 

Low prices on Redemption. Qualified orders over $25 ship free]

Right, if only. 

But even I know I should stop for a bit (and probably should go shower) when I start hovering and squinting at the screen from less than twenty centimeters away. ('Six inches' sounds shorter, but I am attempting to rebel against American acculturation.)

'Twas going to say 'I'm such an 'effing wreck,' but on second thought, I can do worse. I really can. My study ethics are just completely down the drain, probably wrecking havoc on my transcripts. (I am too scared to check.) 

What with all the familial and social turmoil since last year this time, I think I feel drained. 

(I can never tell, until I look back and say, 'wow, what a deep, dark pit I was in, and am I still shaking off the reminants of shadows?')

My enthusiasm for persuing the cognition-intensive is dwindling. The drive for the pursue of perfection seemed to have been weakening since, oh, about three-and-a-half years ago. Seems like a very, very long time ago. In my young age, though, perhaps it is. It was 17% of my life ago, after all. That's close enough to one fifth, isn't it?

The way I cannot even consider admitting and write about some things until it's early morning and when time is tight (actually, I've given up on submitting it with full points attached).

(Not lying to yourself is painful. Physically percieving my own admittance to failure really, really hurts.

Why do I never fucking learn?)

Now that my skin is much more comfortable to live in, it's really time I work on not being a coward, face my shortcomings, battle against those terrible habits of indolence, steer myself from taking the path of least resistance (really, you're better than protein in a sizing column!), and stop fobbing myself off thinking that 'this is good enough' or 'it's too late.' 

And remember that I disliked those qualities enough to hurt others with it. 

And remember that I hate those qualities in myself, every time I experience it. 

Work, amygdala, damn it! 

(Or maybe they are working; it's only I who learned the response wrongly.)

...I am so very afraid and unwilling to look into the future. I am tired and no longer sure of my goals. I have always overestimated myself in the worse moments. And then underestimate myself in the wrong moments. I am no longer sure, while people around me seem to be over their uncertainty and are moving fowards. 

How rotten must I be, questioning myself only as critical moments approach? 

Not putting thoughts into necessary consideration just because I didn't want to? 

Ha! How like me.

Sometimes (with a frightening increase in frequency) I wish for someone to go spoil to. But this is probably only because I feel (am?) displaced from a place of comfort and security. I fancy that to be not far from the truth. 

Saying I am like a kitten kicked out of home and made to fend for myself would be unfair to those who are more similar to that situation than I. 

Perhaps that is what Byakko felt in his short residency in my place of study. Unanchored. Dislodged. Uncertain. 

Assimilating my feelings as a cat's seems terribly like regression and retreat from the actual truth, doesn't it. I am doing more and more of it. It's avoidance to pacify myself; fooling myself into thinking problem further diagnosed and closer to recovery is something that served me well in the past. 

What wonderful habit with such wonderous personality.