And we all shine on.

It's 10:03. I'm listening to Lennon Legend, drinking my second pot of coffee (granted, Dad helped with the first one), and trying to figure out what to wear tomorrow night. I'm going to a play at school with some friends and one should always look her best at the theater. It's just a fact of life. In fact, I should be coming up with TWO outfits, since I'm going to one play tomorrow and another (the brother's) on Friday. So that's exciting. Anyway... I think I might eat a second dinner soon, since I need to keep awake somehow, and coffee is only taking me part-way. They gave us all days to register on for next semester's classes, and my day is tomorrow... but, these classes fill up horribly fast. SO, the genius plan conspired is that I should stay up so I can register come 12:01. It's genius, that is, except for the fact that I'm dead tired AND I have speech class early tomorrow. Not only that, but I'm giving MY speech tomorrow. And I'm the first one to go. 9:00. Hmm; prayers would be nice.

I'm prepared, really... practiced a million times, and I've got nice little notecards and everything. But still. Giving a speech in class is about 20 million times harder than performing on a stage. When the words are someone else's, you can do whatever you want with them. When they're yours, the responsibility is, too. Which is a scary thing.

About this time last Wednesday, I was pretty much having an emotional/mental/whatever-you-want-to-call-it breakdown, thinking about all the things I had to do in the span of the ensuing 8 days or so. So I took a piece of paper, titled it "Game Plan" and wrote out a schedule of EVERY SINGLE THING I had to do. I've been filling out the little bubbles along the way, and since tomorrow is the last of the evil evil days (the next 4 weeks are only mildly evil in comparison), today was the last day on the schedule. Tonight when I finished my visual aid for my speech (and hence filled in the last bubble), I folded the schedule into a series of paper cranes. I haven't even made a crane in years... that's something to be said for muscle memory. Or else pure determination. Anyway - I then placed said cranes on a baking sheet and took a match to them. It's all very symbolic, really. The only trouble was that the fire went out after it burnt the heads off all the cranes. (I have a feeling that's symbolic too... but I'm not quite sure.) After much effort, I finally managed to burn the miserable cranes to ashes, but by then the house was all smoky and Mom wasn't too happy. But still - I did it. I feel oddly triumphant.

Who's to say there's no pleasure in the little things in life?

I realized today that there are only another 4 weeks of school. This thought fills me with joy but also with dread. I'm glad it's almost over... but 4 weeks isn't much time to turn my grade in math around. I decided not to drop the class. This could go for or against me, in a huge way. I was planning on dropping it, and just retaking it next semester... but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I absolutely have to do everything I can to make sure that I don't have to survive another semester like this one. If that means living and breathing math for another 28 days, so be it. It'll all be worth it if I get a passing grade. And if I don't.... well.... I try not to think about that. Basically what would happen is that I'd have to retake it in the spring, and then get a counselor to give me an "E" ("exempt") for this semester's class. So the failed grade would show up on my transcript, but my new grade would replace it so far as my GPA. Which is the important thing to keep up for those of us who are English majors. There's a lot of this choose-your-battles business in college. I just hope I win.

Speaking of college. I'm thinking about Wheaton more and more. There are lots of reasons for this... but I have to admit that one of said reasons is so that I can walk around singing "My Kind of Town" like Frank. That and they have a good Creative Writing program. AND a semester (or year) in Oxford. Love. Speaking of singing, last night I was struck by the holiday spirit so while I worked on my speech, I listened to Bing Crosby (pandora station: White Christmas) and drank hot chocolate. It was loveliness incarnate. Well, y'know, aside from the whole homework thing.

Well. I think I'm going to go eat... and then try on shmancy clothes... and then drink more coffee... and then do something or other.... and then sign my life away for another semester. C'est la vie.

POWER TO THE PEOPLE. Sing it, John, sing it.