Though I was so very desperate to move out, living alone has its inconveniences. My enthusiasm for cooking (which arguably never existed) died soon after my 2nd meal. Over the week I've just been heating up miscellaneous pre-cooked meats in the fridge. I've had egg and lettuce sandwiches 2 days in a row, which isn't much, but they're a pain to make and I'm starting to want a new taste. I must say though, my sandwich making skills have improved the second time. And whoever said that sandwiches were easy and convenient--- you're a fucking liar.
Not that cooking is important. I only need to cook one meal a day, and I can manage that, so far. It's just such a hassle. I don't get much pleasure out of eating... like, I enjoy good food, but eating is really more of a necessity than a hobby. If I didn't have to eat, I wouldn't.
My dirty clothes are quickly piling up in the corner of my room. I'm kind of glad I brought so many t-shirts along, because my shirts get drenched in sweat due to the humidity. I should probably wash them over the weekend... or in the afternoon... or something.
That aside, school is manageable. I'm studying Japanese, like I've always wanted. I'm under a lot of pressure to learn quickly, but I think I'll manage to pass if I just sort of...barely...keep up. It's not nearly as stressful as college higher level maths.
Anyway, by the time I finish this course, I'll be like a Japanese genius or something. That, or I'll turn into one of those wannabe-faggots who add "desu" after everything they say in an attempt to sound more Japanese. Either way, I'll know enough to look highly intelligent and multi-lingual if I want to. Never mind that the only thing I can rightfully say is "where is the toilet".
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