today...

...I looked at this bright sharp paper blade and wondered how convenient it would be to just run it across my wrists. Then I recall that I read somewhere that you can't kill yourself that way and all it does it just sever your tendons and leave you quite digitally deficient and dripping sticky blood. Also, I'm scared of pointy things.

...I recalled that I had a full bottle of paracetamol and thought how easy it was to just swallow it all. Then I decided I didn't want to die bloated up with all that water. And I noticed that I needed to go to the toilet.

...that I could make suicide look like an accident by running in front of a bus here. Then I noticed that while buses here do tend to go quite fast, they're also remarkably good at stopping quickly, and all I'd achieve was scaring some old lady on the bus half to death and pissing off the driver sufficiently. Not to mention, I might add another tear to my already torn jeans.

...I noticed that starving to death is a totally viable option. Except that I'm still quite fat laden and that it would take awhile. Not to mention, I just cooked up a whole bunch of bacon and chips.

...I thought that I'd jump off the top floor of the Menzies building. Then I realized that the building is so defective that the windows probably wouldn't open, like today in the stats tute. Also, all that padding they put at the bottom from the random explosive works they're doing might sorta spoil the fall.

...I considered bludgeoning myself to death. Of course, there's the fact that my aim at anything is atrocious at best, and that attempting that would probably just result in smashing open a few holes in the wall behind me. So I quickly gave up that idea.

...I tried strangling myself. But the funny thing is that as soon as you start to black out, you release your grip and start breathing again. It's kind of like trying to rape yourself, except exponentially less fun. And a lot more frustrating.

...I burnt the tips of my fingers while frying chips. So it occured to me that boiling oil might do the trick. Of course, I didn't want to end up ugly-er, especially when I haven't made it already clear that I want to be cremated. Imagine how random a casket service would be. "Hey, is this the roast pig ar?" "Hoi! That's the casket la!"

...I wondered if I should kill myself with some STD. Then I recalled that not even a crack whore infested with crabs would sleep with me for a grand a minute. So that wasn't even a viable plan. And HIV infected syringes won't work because I AM SCARED OF POINTY THINGS.

...I got an assignment done, finished the yogurt, polished off half the bacon, ignored some housemates, broke the habit of using internet contractions, oogled a bit, and put away clean underwear.

Not an entirely unproductive day.