It's that biannual time of year again, where uni students are caught in the ultimately decisive thrust and parry action of final assignments, exam preparation, and associated yada yada.

And so of course there's only one thing on my mind at the moment; all the other activity that should be undertaken has been relegated to the backburner I never bothered to buy. Really it's more shelved into the cold dusty attic of my brain next to a skipping rope and some marbles.

Perhaps unfortunately for my academic career, the only thing I have given substantial thought to as of late is the relationship between Sara and Grissom on CSI.

Sara: You just don't like sports.
Grissom: I like baseball.
Sara: Baseball. That figures. All the stats.
Grissom: It's a beautiful sport.
Sara: Since when have you cared about beauty?
Grissom: Since I met you.

Sara: Do you want to sleep with me?
Grissom: ...Did you just say what I think you said?
Sara: That way when I wake up in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat, you can tell me it's nothing, it's just empathy.

Sara [looks way from Grissom]: It's easy to wear your heart on your sleeve when you aren't looking in his eyes.

I really am starting to wonder if I was dropped on my head as a baby more times than I realised. I mean... gah! I care about uni, but... when the workload gets too heavy, my brain switches off, walks away, leaving my body going "tra-la-la-la-la, oh look, teevee is shiiiiny," and I'm like this close to reading fanfiction... fanfiction!! the badly spelled badly punctuated badly structured poorly imtitated structure that the writer for some reason prizes.

RAHH! I need someone to knock out one of my brain structures with an anvil. Whichever parts are responsible for the non-sanity. Maybe I just need a lobotomy.

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