Welcome to Thunderdome, Bitch!

Today marked the official start of the Second Hell Week of the Spring Semester. This means very little whiskey fun and an abusive amount of behavioral meds coffee. The annotated bibliography - whatever the fuck that is - for my Senior Culminating Experience (henceforth abbreviated SCE) is due on Thursday. Since I decided to switch the focus of my paper, a lot of the research material that I ordered isn't yet in. And since the college library can take anywhere from 3 days to a few decades to receive (and let you know that they've received) a book from a partner library that is a mere twenty miles away, there ain't no chance in the world that I'll get through all the readin' in time to an-know-tait no gash-derned bib-lee-aw-graff-ee. My stress level is off the charts at the moment, because not only do I have the aforementioned SCE crap to complete, but a few days' of assignments from multiple classes to make-up after the three-day nap I took last week after deciding I hated being conscious.

That, and my father thinks I'm a suicide risk. All because I told him I'm burnt out on the whole college thing, as well as "thinking" myself into an anxiety attack (a scary, sobbing, choking, "I can't breathe" one) after he joked for twenty minutes about his ever-imminent death. (I never, ever want to seriously consider the death of my father, because that day will most assuredly be the day of my death as well.) I received a very serious voicemail from my father this afternoon, and to summarize he is "worried about [me], and wants to make sure everything is all right."

And yes, his concerns are valid. But there's nothing that can be done right now. Regardless of how sick of school I may be, I have have have to do really well this semester, no matter what funnery I have to give up. My confidence and motivation are waning, as the three-day nap suggests. The thing that upsets me the most is that I never had time to slack off, but I took it anyway. I'm sick of wasting my life, but I have no motivation to do anything else to but waste it. And I'm also sick of being in a situation where I have to stay up until 2:30 in the morning, trying to get things done, and instead writing Diaryland entries.

Sorry, it's nothing
personal. I'm just running
out of precious time.