i hate when he gets caught in the middle of this

i don't know why i thought it would be a good idea to get my hair cut at this point in the semester. i am always on the verge of a fucking anxiety attack as it is, and here i am self-imposing an experience which i knew ahead of time would make me instantly feel like crying and screaming and ripping my fucking eyes out all at the same time. i just want to find one person in madison who can do what i need with my hair. i can't deal with this feeling right now. and i'm already 2 hours late for a discussion post that i have yet to begin writing, and i have so many millions of things to do today and i don't think i'll be able to make it out for a run before it gets dark which is only going to make this feeling worse and fuck and fuck and fuck.

if you see me tomorrow with bandaids on my arms, you'll know why.

you don't have to wear that dress tonight

i am really sick of reading these papers, and i'm only 2/3 of the way done. i can't decide if they are just super-dense or if i failed to find the right language by which to instill a sense of what was expected of them. i know that i did my best; i spent a good amount of time over several weeks discussing what an argument is, and i gave them numerous handouts (which we went over together) that clearly explicate what an argument is and how to make one, and yet still i have 50 papers which, with few exceptions, definitely do not make arguments. seriously, guys, a broad introduction that talks about how "literature" or "diction" or "themes" function in the world at large (or worse, one that informs me of how important a writer t.s. eliot is), plus a "thesis" statement which basically rewords the prompt, does not, by any stretch of the imagination, constitute an argument. and just telling me what happens in the text (characters do things! words can have more than one meaning! symbols and stuff!) is also not an argument.

sometimes i question my aversion to marrying for money

oh. my. god.

i have so much shit to do (which is of course why i'm here right now). and i completely forgot about the fact that my grandparents are visiting on tuesday and wednesday, which means i have even less time to do the ridiculous number of things i have to do this week. the problem, as i was mentioning to my new-favorite-drunk-buddy on our run this morning, is that my current schedule does not afford me much (if any) real slacking room. normally, i can find some balance between classes and teaching where i can alternate which weekly obligation goes to the wayside without any severe consequences. but somehow, each week, i am finding myself unable to not do all (or most) of the work in all areas of my life. and this is not because i have suddenly become a workaholic, but because i am completely fucked if i don't finish everything. from this angle, there is no evidence of a light at the end of the tunnel. shit, there's no evidence that i'm even in the tunnel. i might be at the bottom of the ocean for all i know.

but there are some things that aren't so bad. like running. the doctor said i can start working up my mileage again and that the little bit of fluid that's still there is not enough to go into surgery for and will probably go away on its own after a while. there's also the fact that we are currently experiencing my favorite time of year, and although i know it's only fleeting, it's still nice. and my grandmother loves shopping, so even though i really can't afford to take a day and a half out of my (seven day) workweek, i'll at least be able to justify one of my favorite guilty pleasures.

seriously, though, how did i become this person? how did i get to this point where i feel guilty for not finishing all my work? i have always been a firm believer in guilt-free responsibility-shirking, and to be honest, i am kind of ashamed (not to mention overwhelmed, but that's a different issue) by how hard and how much i have been working this semester. and, of course (because this is the way things work), it's only going to get worse.

yeah, but only as a goof

just real quick, and then back to ezra "i think i'm the shit" pound:

i have my computer back. with all my files. all my bookmarks. they didn't even change my background. i also got our camera back. the ipod is still gone, but i am so far from giving a shit about that at this point.

running starts tomorrow. i could have gone today, but today was a 3 vicodin day, and i didn't even have a cookie.

now if i can just figure out what to do in section....