My making this icon last weekend now seems oddly prescient.

(Not that I really intended to make a 'bad day' icon when I've got by with a perfectly decent one for months, but I couldn't really do much else with Ken revealing himself in this state. And very mournful he looks too. He needs a hug. I'd give him one if I didn't know for a fact Youji could do it a lot better and far more cutely than I ever could. Oh, the joys of being a yaoi fangirl and being utterly sold on the idea of Ken as pissy uke.)

But yes. Oddly prescient is the word for this icon.

Yeah, had a less than brilliant day here. In fact it was mad. I won't go into details because frankly, that would be too boring for words but suffice to say my mentor got absolutely zero teaching done with me and I got sent home early as a result, simply because by the time we solved the staffing crisis that had plagued us all day I'd spent eight hours at least running round like a loony generally trying to ease the pressure on the actual staff somewhat and achieving nothing save taking lots of observations, getting people on and off commodes and in and out of bed and fetching and carrying for my country. And was damned glad to be out of the madness that was work, let me assure you.

... and then people wonder why I want to work in theaters when I'm qualified? Ward work has its kickbacks, but the more time I spend out there in practice, the more I find myself coming to appreciate the joy that is an anesthetized patient.

So yeah, very glad to be home never mind that the commute - due to the time I got out - was the hideous nightmare scenario of rush-hour traffic and crowded buses. I'm getting quite good at being the Original Pushy Bitch when it comes to getting on buses, though, meaning it's a very strange day when I don't get a seat. What? I've been on my feet all day. You office workers can stand, you've spent the entire day on your backsides, not rushing up and down hospital corridors fetching and carrying for your country.

(It also helps that I get on my bus about three stops after the bus comes out the garage in the mornings, and about one stop after it leaves Baker Street Station in the evenings. The length of the journey is a bit of a pig, but being able to spend said long journey with my ass firmly parked on a plastic seat upholstered in tasteful greenish carpet. Besides which, if I don't get my seat I can't write my fic and if I can't write my fic - for reasons other than exhaustion, of course - I am not a happy bunny.)

The best thing about being let out this early is that I actually now have an evening in which to unwind instead of heading straight to bed, sleeping the sleep of the Dead Tired then hurling myself right back into it without so much as pause for thought.

... well, except for the bit where I sleep the sleep of the Dead Tired, of course.

Ech. Need to work on that email to vermachtnis.

I need to because I am having a fangirl crisis. At presnt I am so damn fangirly it would be painful to witness if I hadn't developed the knack of keeping these things largely quiet when I'm not round a receptive audience - I'm a nice young woman when I'm not letting on as to what I really think about when I'm not thinking about anything else.

It's my fault. Gah. I really should have not spent so much of the weekend on random Weiss Kreuz fansites, reading bad SchuKen non-con fiction simply because it was SchuKen non-con fiction and liking it for the same reason never mind that I knew it was bad and the fangirl Japanese burnt my eyes so much I had to replace all the random Japanese words the ficcer had throwen in with their English equivalents in Word and the attempts to render Ken's accent and use of casual Japanese in English weren't quite coming off. I also seem to be wanting to squeal like a loony and write fanfic every hour God sends and some he doesn't, like when I'm at work. I'm quite alarmed by the number of notebook pages I filled with my scrawl on the commute today.

(Except I'm lying and am not really, because I want to get my fic moving again and not take three goddamned months to write nine pages.)

By the way, if anyone American can help me out, I'd be eternally grateful: is it Thanksgiving weekend over there? Is that why everyone's gone so weirdly quiet, because they're all back home and left their computers in their dorm rooms? I'd have no idea about this since we the British do not by any stretch of the imagination 'do' Thanksgiving. Which sucks, because I miss my father and need a holiday.

Gahd, what a boring entry. I'll be amusing again someday, I promise. Come back later.