Insomnia, stress and anxiety have my head reeling. My frontal lobe is throbbing. I need sleep. Before I graduate I have: 3 more novels to read, 2 projects, 2 essays, 1 editorial, 1 in class, and 2 take-home finals. I only have three weeks left and I just want to drink, smoke, cook, and spend every second with my friends.
I was about to give up archaeology before I got this job. My mother calls me a gypsy. It wasn't until recently that I've begun to question whether I'm really living my life or running away from it. It has been a curious semester. I wonder what I'll have to show for it at the end.
I <3 Mike's frog
"Every artist is an unhappy lover. And unhappy lovers want to tell their story." ~Iris Murdoch, The Black Prince