(no subject)
So I saw my advisor this morning. Checked my bank statement before I went in.
Fuck.
Really, Higher Powers? What did I do to deserve this? I've been awake an hour and already I'm having the Worst Fucking Day.
It's amazing the kinds of things life chooses to throw at us. It has them all lumped into categories, I'm sure, so that related problems can come at us all at once, leaving us an emotional mess and with just enough leeway to fix one of two catastrophic problems, thus forcing us to choose how thoroughly and in what manner we will fuck ourselves. Screw you, life. If I didn't like breathing so much I'd jump off a bridge into a fast-moving, deep-running body of water.
Now to decide how thoroughly and in what manner I will fuck myself. I can -
a) sell back my books now, give the bank $50 in the hopes that I don't get anyMORE overdraft fees (but with no real guarantee), and then have fuck-all of a time studying for FINALS (Why, God? Why?!), and have to sell my bodily fluids to eat, but not owe the bank any money possibly,
b) sell my books back and NOT give the bank any money, thus ensuring that I will eat you know, Bank of America, I was really counting on that paycheck..., but owe the bank ANOTHER small fortune in overdraft fees,
c) NOT sell my books back, do very well on my finals (thus vindicating myself in the eyes of my advisor, who is obnoxiously young and successful and pretty too, damn her!), but owe the bank that same small fortune, and STILL sell my bodily fluids to eat (I don't think I even have enough plasma in me to make it three weeks!), or
d) tell my mom I fucked up, beg her for money, and have to put up with her holding it over my head for the next five years.
Is it sad that I'm going to pick one of the first three options, because I simply cannot give my mother more ammunition? I'm not a prideful person, so what the hell is wrong with me? Fuck. I'm going to cry, eat some horrible but covered by my meager mealplan food and then donate my bone juice to science. It's not even 10:00 AM and I hate the day already.
Maybe I'll sell back ONE of my books...
Oh, and just so we're clear, the ONE BOOK I don't need is 45 minutes south of here in my room in Dallas. Way to go, Josie.
Fuck.
Really, Higher Powers? What did I do to deserve this? I've been awake an hour and already I'm having the Worst Fucking Day.
It's amazing the kinds of things life chooses to throw at us. It has them all lumped into categories, I'm sure, so that related problems can come at us all at once, leaving us an emotional mess and with just enough leeway to fix one of two catastrophic problems, thus forcing us to choose how thoroughly and in what manner we will fuck ourselves. Screw you, life. If I didn't like breathing so much I'd jump off a bridge into a fast-moving, deep-running body of water.
Now to decide how thoroughly and in what manner I will fuck myself. I can -
a) sell back my books now, give the bank $50 in the hopes that I don't get anyMORE overdraft fees (but with no real guarantee), and then have fuck-all of a time studying for FINALS (Why, God? Why?!), and have to sell my bodily fluids to eat, but not owe the bank any money possibly,
b) sell my books back and NOT give the bank any money, thus ensuring that I will eat you know, Bank of America, I was really counting on that paycheck..., but owe the bank ANOTHER small fortune in overdraft fees,
c) NOT sell my books back, do very well on my finals (thus vindicating myself in the eyes of my advisor, who is obnoxiously young and successful and pretty too, damn her!), but owe the bank that same small fortune, and STILL sell my bodily fluids to eat (I don't think I even have enough plasma in me to make it three weeks!), or
d) tell my mom I fucked up, beg her for money, and have to put up with her holding it over my head for the next five years.
Is it sad that I'm going to pick one of the first three options, because I simply cannot give my mother more ammunition? I'm not a prideful person, so what the hell is wrong with me? Fuck. I'm going to cry, eat some horrible but covered by my meager mealplan food and then donate my bone juice to science. It's not even 10:00 AM and I hate the day already.
Maybe I'll sell back ONE of my books...
Oh, and just so we're clear, the ONE BOOK I don't need is 45 minutes south of here in my room in Dallas. Way to go, Josie.