Hola New Life

I have scared myself into procrastinating appointment making or simply going to the doctor because I am scared of anything they might tell me about my stomach. The following possibilities I find most frightening: you have a mutant growing in your belly, you have little sickles growing on your small intestine, you have an intolerance for gluten, or, worst of all, you must try another type of medicine. I need to get this figured out because it is getting in the way of many things big time.
My professor told me he likes my writing style today, and that it is very fun to read. He gave me some tips, though, on where to find guides for writing in the world of academia. Being (hanging gerund time) the kind of girl who takes the "why bother if it's boring?" potion, I find myself wanting to learn the rules of political science writing. Though perhaps I will toss that skill out the window once I relearn the ways of my world.
Push-ups against the wall play nice, and the world is beautiful because it is the world. Today was peaches and cream kind of smooth but tasted more like a McDonald's hamburger and nacho cheese on a pizza. The trick to minimizing pain is water with ice of which I tolerated 8. After threatening to call the police, I throw a bowl of cereal on the floor (accidentally?). Rose and David are so cute and cuddly, and I promise to take responsibility for getting my credit card from their pad. The beast is back, and she's here to stay in the most contrary of ways. Wasabi is best in large doses after all of the sushi is gone, and interviews with James Brown are best watched on repeat. Now you know the moral of the story that which is sufficient to call my bedtime story.