I have absolutely nothing to do. I'm bored.

Actually, I'm in my Personal Finance class, and we're doing something about stocks and growth and all that jazz, but I don't really care. And you know, I've completed my assignment like the good student I am.

But anyway, there's nothing to do here. And I left my writing crap in the other room.

Can you believe I haven't written any poetry in forever? Well, actually, I wrote one poem. Seven lines. Not that bad. But I never posted it. It took me long enough to type it up on my computer in the first place. It's the only poem I've written about the guy I like. And I'd honestly like to keep it that way. I don't like writing poems about them all the time. It doesn't help my mental sanity, and I'm crazy enough, thank you very much.

Gah, frustrating.

And I have flowers in my hair. Fake flowers. But they're still flowers. They're yellow. I think they're supposed to be roses, but they really don't look like roses. I dunno.

And now people are talking about Twilight. The inevitable, I know. Good book, but I'm hesitant to see the film. Mostly because it costs so much to get in.

I have to leave now. We're actually going to do something.