From the Dark Side, send me a postcard.
I would like a Peter hug plz.
Today was my last day of Nutrition classes. Ever. I hadn't really thought about it until I was on the bus to go home. It's a very weird thought. The end of Grade 12 was sort of the same, but I had a definite plan then that I've pretty much stuck to. But now? After next year, my life is completely up in the air. It's a scary thought, and I don't like it one bit. Lots of people would be excited 'cuz there's so many opportunities and things I could do, but mostly I'm tired and scared and sad that my tidy little world of fabulous classmates is being torn asunder. Mostly I wanted to use the phrase 'torn asunder'. Deal.
I'm supposed to be watching 'Naked' by Mike Leigh right now, but I was up until 2 again finishing up our report for Useless Class and I decided to download it (shh, don't tell my prof) and watch it tomorrow with the roomie and take a nap instead. But when I woke up, it hit me again that this is the end, and I've been crying off and on ever since. It really is a big deal, 'cuz next year there are no classes and no Cherith every day and no hiding behind 'oh I don't really care about this, it's only worth 10%' and I'm scared of it. I don't feel ready, though apparently I am. I don't like this. I know it'll be okay, but right now I'm not a happy camper. I really want to skip my Classics class tonight because I feel so awful, but I really can't because I missed last week to go to the Hawksley concert with Ms Alice, and next week is the final. Mostly I want to curl up with my mum and melanittt and my kitties and watch sappy movies and eat chocolate. Is that too much to ask?
My guts are acting up again. I tried experimenting with some different kinds of fibre supplements, but now I'm back to good old orange-flavoured Metamucil. Say it with me: "Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww." It's like really weird, chalky orange juice that leaves a lovely residue on your glass three times a day. Intestines? Hello? Please to be nice to me again. I promise to be less stressed out in three weeks. I'll totally only feed you good food that you want to eat instead of forcing down vegetables that make you sick and terrible boxed starchy nastiness that makes my brain happy and you so angry. Promises promises.
Now to console myself with America's Next Top Model and mope off to class. Sigh.
Today was my last day of Nutrition classes. Ever. I hadn't really thought about it until I was on the bus to go home. It's a very weird thought. The end of Grade 12 was sort of the same, but I had a definite plan then that I've pretty much stuck to. But now? After next year, my life is completely up in the air. It's a scary thought, and I don't like it one bit. Lots of people would be excited 'cuz there's so many opportunities and things I could do, but mostly I'm tired and scared and sad that my tidy little world of fabulous classmates is being torn asunder. Mostly I wanted to use the phrase 'torn asunder'. Deal.
I'm supposed to be watching 'Naked' by Mike Leigh right now, but I was up until 2 again finishing up our report for Useless Class and I decided to download it (shh, don't tell my prof) and watch it tomorrow with the roomie and take a nap instead. But when I woke up, it hit me again that this is the end, and I've been crying off and on ever since. It really is a big deal, 'cuz next year there are no classes and no Cherith every day and no hiding behind 'oh I don't really care about this, it's only worth 10%' and I'm scared of it. I don't feel ready, though apparently I am. I don't like this. I know it'll be okay, but right now I'm not a happy camper. I really want to skip my Classics class tonight because I feel so awful, but I really can't because I missed last week to go to the Hawksley concert with Ms Alice, and next week is the final. Mostly I want to curl up with my mum and melanittt and my kitties and watch sappy movies and eat chocolate. Is that too much to ask?
My guts are acting up again. I tried experimenting with some different kinds of fibre supplements, but now I'm back to good old orange-flavoured Metamucil. Say it with me: "Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww." It's like really weird, chalky orange juice that leaves a lovely residue on your glass three times a day. Intestines? Hello? Please to be nice to me again. I promise to be less stressed out in three weeks. I'll totally only feed you good food that you want to eat instead of forcing down vegetables that make you sick and terrible boxed starchy nastiness that makes my brain happy and you so angry. Promises promises.
Now to console myself with America's Next Top Model and mope off to class. Sigh.