I got my period and I'm a little puffy feel like a man

This occured almost an hour before I got my bus, but I still didn't get home until 6.15. Apparently it wasn't an isolated incident; the gentleman has climbed traffic signs and draped banners over the freeway once before.

Also, in Germany, where HP #6 has just been translated, an impatient fan got violent: "'Suspect said he could not stand the suspense of not knowing who the half-blood prince was,' a Hanover police spokesperson said." I feel his pain. When I got home from Liz's house on the morning after the release, my dad drove me to his friend's house. I was helping them move. I did about an hour of work, went home, ran gleefully to the front porch and... nothing. Only a note saying that they were instructed not to leave books when nobody was in the house. I was in such distress, tears were shed. I called my parents, who were at Costco at the time, and they bought me another copy. I turned on the TV and paced back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, calling my parents every fifteen minutes ("What are you doing? Is Costco so interesting?") until my mother came back and gave me the book. At which point it seemed like I had all the time in the world on my hands. I went upstairs and started reading, almost skimming it, because I had waited so long for the book I wasn't even believing that I actually had it in my hands. I missed a lot out. I wonder what I'll be like for the seventh. I'll probably cry. I've never cried at a Harry Potter book before (not when Sirius or Dumbledore died) but just the prospect of it being all over is quite daunting. This woman I know says she's going up to her beach house, alone, to read it. I don't have a beach house but maybe I'll go to a park. Who am I kidding, I'll read it in bed as always. The seventh Harry Potter, that will be an event.

My mom thinks I'm fat. She keeps telling me to exercise, it's incessant, and when she's not offering me pie or making me dinner, she's criticizing my diet. And doing things like poking me in the stomach when I'm standing in a weird position against the wall and (when I express confusion) saying "I was just wondering if that was really you." Or giving me meaningful looks and being all bitchy when I outgrow two pairs of pants - wait, scratch that. I didn't outgrow them, she bought them for me, unasked, they're sizes 4 and 6 and I'm an 8 so they never fit. It's strange how I can love and respect my mother, but at the same time, really, really loathe her sometimes. I mean, as if she couldn't stand to lose a little weight herself, not that it really matters. Apparently it's more important for me because I'm young, but really, is that the way to go about helping your daughter to be healthy? I don't think so. I really, really don't think so.

Auditions tomorrow. Whoop-de-hoop. I wrote Greg a Director's Guide and helped him copy the scripts. I'm actually auditioning, for the smaller female parts. Felicity, Dawn, and Minnie, I think. I might actually have to act.

My immigration prof is incredibly boring and I just don't like her at all. She has the most horribly irritating habits and she doesn't treat students with any respect. She's one of those black-tights-and-skirts female professors, all she did the first day was read out the entire fucking syllabus (oh, nice learning experience there), she's fond of "multiculturalism," and she just... the class just doesn't work. It needs something more, from her, mostly. It's not as if immigration is a dry subject, there are lots of possibilities. My dad was thinking of teaching a course on immigration last year (he eventually decided on revolutions instead) and he came up with plenty of ideas in about an hour so it's not as if reading the syllabus out loud or taking up four hours of class time writing different theories on the overhead (that's all we've done so far) are the only options.

I'm completely just procratinating on doing my reading, here. For some reason all I want to do, when faced with reading this quarter, is stare into space and different time in the future when I can do the reading, other than now.