My toenails are turning black.

I think I would be able to bear up much better during the next few weeks if someone would promise - I mean for real - to come visit me.

Consider yourself solicited. (coughMOM)

I feel like I should have something deep and meaningful to say about the fact that, as of this morning, I am a teacher. However, the only emotion floating to the top is terror (yea, it is the cream in the milk of Allison's insecurities). Also, I don't have any time at the computer. So I'm going to go now, safe in my assurance that you all know how freaked out I am.

Today I have to write up lesson plans for the first month of 7th grade literature, 7th grade history, 6th grade literature, 6th grade history, 6th grade English grammar, 5th grade literature, 5th grade history, and 5th grade English grammar.

I want to die. Please send me a gun.

Last night I dreamed that I was attempting to escape the pursuing vampire Captains Picard and Sisko via time travel, with Starbuck my only ally against the encroaching threat.

Hello, internet. My name is Allison Clarke, and I am back.