Man, oh man, I cannot WAIT until 9 a.m. That�s when the offices of my school open up, and exactly when I will call to demand to speak with whoever the hell is responsible for the morons who are fucking up my schedule. It�s sick, I know. But I�m actually looking forward to finally being heard and getting my schedule fixed, and if the little piss gets in trouble because of his obvious avoidance of me and his inability to call me back and fix his mistake, I won�t be losing any sleep. Sounds mean? Right, right.

9 is so close now, because I�ve already been interrupted from this update a handful of times since I�ve begun to type it. Interrupted with tasks, and emergencies, and deadlines upon deadlines, and I�m so glad that I don�t feel overwhelmed right now. I have this sort of �fuck-it� no worries attitude, and I can�t quite trace the source of it. I should be much more stressed than I am right now. But fuck-it, I�m not.

I�m tired. My head hurts. I want to cry. But you see, that is all hormonal, and ladies, you understand how once a month you just NEED to give those tears a reason to come out. I don�t want to end up finding a reason that lingers long after my hormones have balanced themselves, so I�m not looking for a reason at all, because as you know, where you look, you will find.

I don�t like this angry feeling I have, this furrowed brow, this cranky scowl. It�s just not becoming. I don�t like this feeling of wanting to hide, burrow away and not deal with anyone. But I know that it will pass, this is the cycle of my emotions, and if they are not felt, if they are not experienced, how could I appreciate how wonderful it feels to not have them? And everything, everything, has its purpose.

Ten to 9. I may be back with another update, and I better have the tone of triumph in my words. I need to have control over SOMETHING, and today, it�s my school schedule and one schmuck�s spontaneous job performance evaluation.

-Barbarella

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