I am an accomplice in my own frustration. Last semester I swore that things would be better and classes would be easier and exams would be passable. How did it get so late so soon? I am now sitting reading notes that are in psychological Spanglish. That is, they are neither one language or the other but a weird mixture of both. On top of that, I'm trying to deal with the convoluted language that comes with studying psychology. Like taxes and death, it's mandatory pain. I struggle enough with it in English.
I am sitting in a
study group where we all have one way tickets to Strop Central. I'm on the verge of a Nervy B myself. Sane, rational human beings are developing twitches. I just witnessed my
amiga flick her hair back. Even though it's a in a bun on top of her head. Soon we'll all be dithery spazzes who sit in darkened rooms cackling menacingly. For now, we are functioning wrecks. My only hope is that we survive the oncoming trauma.
On top of this I'm trying to manage my new found caffeine addiction. Nothing beats the smell of a fresh pot of coffee. I associate it with summer. With lazy mornings. With freedom. *Deep breath* I can nearly smell it. The freedom that is. My brother is arriving in a few days and I have a week to show him around this wonderful region before I move home to inevitable rain and ultimate ruin. I can already see myself holed up redoing essays and trying to make up credits to get me into my fourth and final year.
I sound very glass half-empty these days. I used to be glass half-full. I don't care about the glass. I want to know what's in the glass. Please let it be gin.
Why do I get the feeling happy hippos won't cure this one?
I'd love
to be a happy hippo.
Or a bird.
Flying would definitely be my superpower.
Yes, please, please let it be gin.
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