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I'm hoping that if I post this one, Sandra will see it and let me read her secret blog because EVIDENTLY YOU ARE ALLOWED TO HAVE SECRET THINGS AND I AM NOT, o-kay!

ON GAIA: I don't really have any friends. What am I doing here? Anyway I've been accumulating money more slowly (no time for booty grab and even less interest) and I haven't been spending it much either. I never have the time to play zOMG! and still haven't been able to assemble a crew to fight the end boss. It just seems like I don't have time to sit around and waste my time lately...

OFF GAIA: ...because I am busy LEARNING! And this semester, a mighty 17 credits, has already proven to be the roughest yet. Where normally, there exists one "problem" course and one "comfort course" (respectively being a course where I try extra hard and a course where I've got such a knack for it that I don't try at all), but this semester is different. I've got multiple problem courses and no comfort courses to speak of. Work overwhelms me. I shudder as work piles up in a matter of ours. Thank God for the miracle of the snow day that let me get all caught up. I need time for Sandra (and H.P. Lovecraft, whose short stories I've taken a great liking to).

Speaking of Sandra, tomorrow is valentines day and we will be spending the day together. I don't get to see her often enough, mostly because of dirty rotten crooked college work and even more dirty rotten crooked part-time work on the weekends. But I'll get back to that in a moment because I know that if she's reading this it's to see what I wrote about her. So here, goes. Sandra recently dyed her hair black. I haven't seen it in person yet and she says she hates it but I bet it looks good. She's such a cutie. D'awww. Hiii Sandraaaa.

So anyway back to whining and complaining. It seems that my stomach problems (previously unseen since before my operations) have returned to disrupt my normal daily functions. I fear that it is not a coincidence that my attendance at the university is causing these problems. Slowly but surely, stress, bad weather, and ill-prepared food are likely the factors that wage war on my insides.

Even stranger, however, is the prescence of the terrors that lurk in my sleep. For the third time in what I guess to be about a month, strange afflictions have- er- afflicted me as I roused from my slumber. First, there was waking paralysis. Simply put, my body somehow managed to wake me up before it had the chance to break the spell of REM- rendering me, for roughly half a minute or so, unable to move, and trapped staring at the ceiling. This in and of itself is horrifying, but I've read about it before and apparently it isn't a devilously rare occurence.

Next, occuring sometime last week, was daylight hallucinations. These weren't of the troped visual kind, but rather of unexplainable sounds. Namely, I was jolted awake in the middle of the night to a loud buzzing (appropriate as I'd been dreaming of mosquitos). It felt as if some unknown bug was settling itself right next to my head on the pillow. Startled, I jolted up and looked, but saw nothing. The buzzing continued for a moment and then quieted into nothing. Hearing (and seeing) nothing more for several minutes, I struggled to fall asleep again.

This morning, however, I was plagued with a combination of the two. Waking to the strange yet familiar stiffness, I sought my own arms and hands. Though I felt as if I had moved them into my line of vision, I could see nothing; as if they were invisible. I tried to move my gaze to my sides to see where they were but, predictably, my neck would not allow itself to move. All through that horrible half-minute, I could hear the malicious whispering of multiple women, not in a distinct spot, as with the buzzing noise, but all around me. Though I recognized the waking paralysis immediately, my delusional morning mind told me that witches were congregating in my presence, and so I shut my eyes in horror to escape the ordeal after another few seconds.

The whole of these events fascinate me deeply, and I shall continue to write about them (in a traditional novelistic fashion rather than my usual shitheaded babbling) if they persist me.