Man, oh man, I cannot WAIT until 9 a.m. Thatís 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. Itís sick, I know. But Iím 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 wonít be losing any sleep. Sounds mean? Right, right.
9 is so close now, because Iíve already been interrupted from this update a handful of times since Iíve begun to type it. Interrupted with tasks, and emergencies, and deadlines upon deadlines, and Iím so glad that I donít feel overwhelmed right now. I have this sort of ďfuck-itĒ no worries attitude, and I canít quite trace the source of it. I should be much more stressed than I am right now. But fuck-it, Iím not.
Iím 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 donít want to end up finding a reason that lingers long after my hormones have balanced themselves, so Iím not looking for a reason at all, because as you know, where you look, you will find.
I donít like this angry feeling I have, this furrowed brow, this cranky scowl. Itís just not becoming. I donít 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, itís my school schedule and one schmuckís spontaneous job performance evaluation.