5.05.02

I know nothing about math, and I’m awfully proud of it.

I’ve currently got two index page designs that I’m torn between.  Go take a look at Option A or Option B.  And let me know which you prefer.  The second requires a little more explanation, which I’ll add if I decide on that one.

So I have the following on my to-do list (in priority order): finding a date to prom, playing my bass (which is begging for attention), getting sleep, doing a Precal pledge set, and panicking for my two APs this week.

I asked Josh [A] from Allstate, and he said he’d love to go, but wasn’t sure if his parents would dig it.  His dad did, but his mom apparently thinks he’s four or something…and hasn’t given a definitive answer yet.  So I’m fretting about that and checking my email every thirty seconds; I really want him to be able to come down, but if he can’t, I still need to find a date.  Blah.

I miss my bass.

Sleep is highly overrated.

I’m almost three weeks behind on my last pledge set, and although I have no real idea what this one is about, it’d be nice to have it in on time.  Eh, that’s not gonna happen.

I took the SATs yesterday, which sucked.  Then I took the AP history class exam, which sucked.  Then I went to a party, which could have sucked, but didn’t.  I also worked yesterday, which was nice, and then fought with my mother, which wasn’t.

I just don’t understand why she refuses to acknowledge that I have commitments to people and things.  Maybe school shouldn’t be the be-all-end-all of my existence.  Maybe my commitments to my job, my friends, my newspaper, and my happiness should come first?  Maybe I shouldn’t spend an entire week consistently on the verge of tears because I’m so stressed about everything that needs to be done and simply CAN’T BE DONE.  I am not perfect.  No one is.  And while maybe I’m a little less perfect than your average Collegiate student, I see no reason why I should be so strung out that I can’t sleep at night.  I can be happy without being perfect, and without living up to the insane standards that the world has set for me.

Fuck this.  Fuck all of it.  I need two days, that’s all.  I just need time to de-stress, relax, talk to my friends, let my brain work outside the strict confines of school, and re-find myself.  Yet forty-eight hours is simply too much to ask when I have a future to think of.

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