Battle of Yavin
I am standing right at the edge. I want to be done with this semester so badly, and in perfect ironic symmetry, the only thing left in my path is my post-modernist class. I am not going to do well on the final, but for what it's worth, I don't care, because three A's and one D is fine enough to postpone armageddon until next December, at least.
I look and feel like a squirrel right now (if squirrels are always lightheaded and nauseous and tired). I couldn't fall asleep last night, my mind was going a mile a minute. About nothing of great importance. It just wouldn't shut up, so I couldn't fall asleep for two hours, and that was hellish on my nerves.
Chased down the Green Route today. In the panic that ensued as I foresaw missing a final on the account of missing the bus, I got a taste of that old speed once again, and my quads felt it. This summer, I am going to construct a strict regiment. ...It's not like I'm going to have anything else to do while I'm in Cortland.
JRE08's people haven't gotten back to me within the past 48 hours like they said they would. This weighs heavily on my mind.
Alex has been nuts the past week. I am really looking forward of getting out of there. It has nothing to do with the job itself, but more to do with the two guys who I'm working with on the aps-line: one's a meth-head who flakes every night at 9-ish (last night he just straight up left: said he had a job interview at a Circle K--at 9:45PM--leaving me with everything to clean), and the other guy hasn't even bothered to show this week. Every night, I just want to punch the meth-head's teeth out of his mouth, except I can't, because he has no teeth anyway, because when you get hooked on meth, your teeth rot and fall out of your mouth.
At least I'm going to get a fat-ass check. And hopefully those two won't be around when I come back in August.
And all I want right now is to walk out of Culler Hall, apathetic about doing poorly on a final for a class that I wrote off weeks ago, and think of Luke Skywalker blowing up the Death Star, and hear Han Solo over the intercom: "Alright kid, you're all clear. Now let's blow this thing and go home."
I look and feel like a squirrel right now (if squirrels are always lightheaded and nauseous and tired). I couldn't fall asleep last night, my mind was going a mile a minute. About nothing of great importance. It just wouldn't shut up, so I couldn't fall asleep for two hours, and that was hellish on my nerves.
Chased down the Green Route today. In the panic that ensued as I foresaw missing a final on the account of missing the bus, I got a taste of that old speed once again, and my quads felt it. This summer, I am going to construct a strict regiment. ...It's not like I'm going to have anything else to do while I'm in Cortland.
JRE08's people haven't gotten back to me within the past 48 hours like they said they would. This weighs heavily on my mind.
Alex has been nuts the past week. I am really looking forward of getting out of there. It has nothing to do with the job itself, but more to do with the two guys who I'm working with on the aps-line: one's a meth-head who flakes every night at 9-ish (last night he just straight up left: said he had a job interview at a Circle K--at 9:45PM--leaving me with everything to clean), and the other guy hasn't even bothered to show this week. Every night, I just want to punch the meth-head's teeth out of his mouth, except I can't, because he has no teeth anyway, because when you get hooked on meth, your teeth rot and fall out of your mouth.
At least I'm going to get a fat-ass check. And hopefully those two won't be around when I come back in August.
And all I want right now is to walk out of Culler Hall, apathetic about doing poorly on a final for a class that I wrote off weeks ago, and think of Luke Skywalker blowing up the Death Star, and hear Han Solo over the intercom: "Alright kid, you're all clear. Now let's blow this thing and go home."
