::Siphon

toplayalongathome:belalugosi’sdeadbauhaus

Who greased the viiiiiiine?

I’m trying to swing back into the college frame of mind and already I’m doing a poor job. Back to the days of having but 10 or 15 minutes of spare time every day and putting my nose to the grindstone every hour. I’m not prepared.

I’m not willing.

Last year was so draining that I don’t feel like my mind has recovered. It would be so much easier if I were doing something that I loved. Writing. Programming. Creating. Destroying.

Instead, I’m doing reams of busywork and giving speeches for a speech class that is required in my major. The insulting truth is that it’s no more advanced than the speech class I took in high school, and the instructor is absolutely vile. I feel like I’m wasting my tuition and my time. I wonder who I’d approach about getting a refund. Seriously — I’d write a letter or attend an interview to protest this pathetic curriculum. I just don’t want to jeopardize my grade by entering into the vicious world of college politics.

Fighting off a cold, too. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, except for the post-traumatic bit. I get a little fever and start worrying that it’ll be a relapse of the supervirus that almost killed me last year. I think about the weakness and the nausea and the hospital bed and the needles. Yuck. I hope I get all the way over that hump mentally. Soon.

I’d write more — but there are two inconsiderate girls yammering away in the middle of the computer lab. If I don’t pack my bag and go, I’m going to crush their skulls with pure malice alone.