Book of the Purple Faerie
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I just finished my Literary Criticism test, ending my
extremely stressful, ulcer-inducing day. It hasn't been a
pleasant one. Last night I was up until 2 am preparing a
paper for the take-home portion of that exam, as I pushed
it off until the end of the day. To compound my misery, I
also had to prepare a presentation for Linguistics on
relative pronouns and study for a quiz in math.
Overwhelmed, I called my mommy for encouragement, then had
to harass both of my Internet crazy younger brothers to
give her the message that I had called.
She told me to lighten up and stop giving myself an ulcer.
She was very confident in my abilities and was sure I would
do just fine. I had to explain the "fuck it" disease to
her, and I worried her until I told her I'd gotten my
period two days ago. She was relieved and places all of my
stress on that. Well, I hope that she was right, because
then it will go away in a few days. I was really on top of
my homework until last week. Jason and I have come to the
conclusion that we hate just about all time spent not
hanging out with the group. Classes suck!
I ended up not giving my presentation in Linguistics this
morning, which was good because I was feeling very sick. We
ran out of time, so I'll be the first person to present on
Friday. That gives me time to make my presentation actually
not suck! Hooray! I could hardly eat at lunch, instead
spending most of my time chatting with Bethany. Jason and
Chris were both absent and Heather skipped work because she
was feeling sick, so we headed back to the room pretty
early to study for math.
We left with a sense of hopelessness.
It could have been worse. If he curves the grade, I might
just end up with something decent. I knew for the most part
what I was doing, except for the last one, in which I had
no clue. So there's the minute possibility that I didn't
fail! We went over the quiz after everyone finished, so I
know what I got right and what I got wrong. My grade all
depends on how generous he is when grading.
I don't know why I even bothered with studying for literary
criticism. It was a piece of cake! A few minutes review
with Becky, Abby and Amanda and I was ready to rock! I
finished in half an hour and then headed to the computer
lab (where I am now) to kill some time before Goofing Off
With Covey (aka Writing for Electronic Media and Film).
I have to wonder, why do I always have this overwhelming
dread of failure? I really don't know... Everyone else is
confident in me and my abilities... why aren't I? Must be
the depression. Or maybe the "fuck it" disease mutated into
the "fuck me!" disease spontaneously... nah. It's just
abundantly clear to me, sitting here listen to a guy from
my lit class talking about how he didn't even bother to do
a work sited page. Why can't I be like that? Regardless of
how much I don't care, on some level I always do... A lot!
So much that it makes my stomach flip.
I think I could use some more rest... I need to relax.
Don't know how exactly to achieve this, but hey, it's worth
Maybe it'll work, maybe not...