When you forget about someone they cease to exist.
How do I even begin to tell you?
Camp was wonderful. Ask me about it.
School is horrible. It's taken me exactly two weeks to completely fuck up a decent semester. Good job, self.
Seriously, though. I might joke about it, but please know I hate myself a little bit right now.
I have my last exam at 8. History of Philosophy. I'd love to study, but I missed the last class and I don't have a study guide. I never bought the text book. I don't take notes.
I really wish my parents would offer to help with my rent or something. I wish I didn't feel like asking them for money was such an ordeal. Not that I need money, especially. I do fine. But I would have more time to devote to school. That's mostly bullshit, though, because I probably wouldn't anyway. Dad gave me a hundred dollars last week, which made me feel special. Then I remembered he and mom owed me a collective 350 for vet bills and books. I still feel special, though.
Yesterday morning I failed my African American Women's Literature test. I failed it miserable. I walked in fairly confident; I probably have a B average in there, and I felt that I had about 75% of the test down easy. Apparently, I was wrong. I've missed two classes since our last test; I studied the material we'd covered, plus works by every female author in the book that we hadn't studied yet. (I didn't buy that book, either, but I looked up the table of contents online, then looked up the writers, poems, and stories.) There was only one single question on the whole test (which was almost entirely short answer) that I know know know I got right.
I didn't have an exam in Chaucer. I did really well (I think) on my Gender Communications exam; it was optional. I needed the points.
I've spent a lot of time at Jeff's apartment recently; I'm probably driving the boys insane. I'm sorry. I feel really loved around you all, so thanks for that. It made me miss dorm living. I love sharing a bed. Jeff is definitely an angel sent personally to save me. Chris is the only reason I smile sometimes, and my mood lifts just to be in his presence. Little Brian is like a younger brother; I feel simultaneous urges to pester him, protect him, kill him, and nurture him.
Yesterday (I think) we watched "Being Julia" (great)/ Tonight we watched "Bridget Jones' Diary" (very good), "Another Gay Movie" (very dumb/gross/funny...ish), and "Invisible Children" (life-altering). I'm going to watch it at least every two weeks. I don't want to forget, but I'm afraid it's already happening. I'm sorry, Tony.
St. Thomas Aquinas, if you read this, please consider it a prayer... or a plea. Not only do I have an exam on you in the morning, you are the patron saint of colleges; I hope maybe you take care of college students, too.
Please don't forget me, Reader. Please.
I know that's selfish, but I'm asking you just the same.