Conflicted

Last night was another horrid night in prose fiction. Well, in truth, it wasn't that bad until after class. My Prof and I sat down for a "chat" about my grades in the class (he did this with everyone) and he called me a slacker. There was a lot of talk about "meeting me half-way" and what my potential would be if I "applied myself". I asked him about volunteering at the highschool he teaches at (he knows about my issues with low grades and acceptance into the Education program), and he told me my best bet was to finish my undergrad and then move to Rochester NY and persue a teaching degree there (which wasn't really what I asked him...) Finally he decided that he may need my help, so after the break we're going to work something out. Then I realize that a) I really, really don't have time to do this, even thought I both want to and need to, if I'm going to get into the program, and b)I may have to stay up here until June, which I can't possibly afford to do. Damnit. Then I get home, and try to relay all of this to my friend Chris. I told him that I felt pretty damned worthless (I did), and that I thought I might just save everyone the time and money and drop ot and go work in the mayonaise factory. His response? "Don't be stupid. Anyways, gotta go ttyl."

My response? Fuck you. Sorry, but you abandon me, forget I exist for months on end, tell me I can't come over and visit because I'm "too much of a temptation"... I think you're the one who needs to stop being stupid. Jerk.

Anyways, so that all left me in a rather foul mood today, when compiled with the fact that I have a HUGE test on Thursday, no idea how I'm going home next week, Work on Saturday until 11pm, part of my novel due the Monday I get back, a Forensic Psych test on Tuesday, a computers midterm on Wednesday, a re-written essay due on Thursday, an improv night to plan, and about 10 pounds to lose before March 10th. Gah. I go to class, only to sit and wonder what it would feel like to noose myself. I got the essay I have to re-write back, and it got a 73% (which is pretty damned high), but I couldn't feel good about it. Tonight, I got a Forensic Psych test back, and I got a 54.5% on it (which makes sense: That was from the last week of hell. I didn't even study for it because I was writing my Shakespeare essay).

Here's where the conflicted bit comes in: I think I want to do something about all of this. I want to try to be a better person. It's just extreamly hard to kill old habits, and start better ones. I need it, though. And, I know that making changes would make me happier. I want to have an apartment like Sarah's, or Mike's, or even Todd's, where people can come in and feel comfortable. I want people to be impressed with me, and I think I can do it. I just feel a lack of motivation.

Todd and I had another of our trademark "deep" conversations when I was at his place. Long story short, he told me I worry too much, and that I need to just let whatever is going to happen happen. He told me other things too, but they're between me and him, for now. What he doesn't know is that on my last night there, I was awake for a while before I woke him up. I watched him sleep, and thought about different things, and realized that I want to try and be better for him. I'm not the kind of person he wants, we've established that. But I want to make myself better, for him, and for the next guy I'm going to meet who I'll want the way I want him. Or something like that. I don't want to get too deep on that line of thought: the strings might just pull my ribs out.

I'm still in a relativly rotten mood. Tomorrow's going to be a long, stimulant filled day. I need to write more. I got some notes for a story down, but I don't think it's going anywhere, and it feels... Bigger than what it should be. Bigger than my britches, I guess. I need to clean my room. I need to breathe.

Sunday won't come fast enough.