Seems Like The Classy Thing To Do Would Be Not To Mention It

I've basically stopped sleeping. I just roll around all night thinking how much happier I'd be if I were asleep. And then if I do manage to fall asleep, I have nightmares. I'm no psychiatrist, but I might be under a high level of stress.

Today I signed up for what has to be the last class I register for this semester. It's a class on working with families who are experiencing grief and loss. Seems like kind of a downer. It's 1 credit which is nice, A-F which is not. Also it's on Saturdays from 9:30-4:30. Only two Saturdays, which isn't bad for one credit. It's not like I'm giving up my Saturdays, either, because for all of the other ones I'm volunteering on Saturday mornings for the Children's Defense Fund, screening families for free healthcare and other social services. Pretty much you should expect to see me about as much next semester as you did this semester.

Anyway, the point is, I'm taking 17 credits next semester to make up for the fact that I'm slacking off with only 13 here. 17 credits translates into 7 classes (that Saturday class, a 1-credit learn-to-play-squash class, and 5 real classes.) And six days a week I have to be somewhere by 9:30 AM or earlier. I figured it might be nice to have a full schedule and not sit around wishing someone fun would call me. I'm giving up on counting on other people to be fun.

Also I just applied for a job I really want but won't get, because I think it's only for Journalism/Mass Communications majors. The ad for it was unclear. It's a research job that for some reason involves blogging. I thought, I bet I could make that happen.

I should be reading the study notes for Uncle Vanya (by Chekov! Chekov, that's his name. How could I forget Chekov? Maybe because I haven't slept in days.) I have a final in one hour. And then I'm done, done, done.