Why. I. Am. A. Trooper.

MONDAY

1am - get to my parents' house after a lovely evening roaming about Toronto. Start packing.
3am- go to sleep
5am wake up to finish packing
7:30am - leave my parents' house, drive all over the place [roadtrips = pleasure because of good company.. the mutual admiration continues].
3pm - get to my apartment. Despite the gorgeous view, it still doesn't feel like home. unpack.
4:30-5:30 kickboxing [love. it. jab! cross! uppercut! bam!]
6pm stuff. schoolwork, donning, phone calls, errands. Who knows where time goes?
10pm try unsuccessfully to nap. give up. Take a shower, because it's time for... the midnight shift!

MIDNIGHT. NOW TUESDAY start work
TUESDAY 8am still at work. Honestly might have died [or at least cried] if not for a truly wonderful and generous person who, unsolicited, walked over in the cold to keep me company from 2am-7am. Good friends, you need to hang onto them.

At that point i felt like i'd been awake for a billion hours. Did i go home?

no.

i proceeded to:
-meet with a prof for a 2 hour discussion about stats
-go to a long and boring class on cardiovascular disease, and then to a three hour class that has ONLY SIX PEOPLE [=no dozing in the back]
-attended annual budget meeting
- finished that and headed to a friend's surprise 25th birthday dinner.

It is now 10pm and i just got home.

i took a couple of hour-long naps between classes, and i fell asleep in the car, but that's all since I awoke monday morning at 5am. Some people may be able to handle this, but i'm not one of them. Good thing that after a while, i don't even notice that i've turned into a fucking zombie. That's fortunate, cause i'm working AGAIN TOMORROW AT 8AM.

my books are still in shrink wrap. My apartment is a mess. I am a mess. Today my school informed me that i am currently enrolled in six courses. And working way too much, but i don't feel like i have much of a financial choice. Thoughts of my mountains of schoolwork make me hyperventilate. Cheers to thirteen weeks and counting.

oh, and a quick perusal of definitions of neurotic [thanks, gloamy] PLUS a glance through a few old entries reveals that: I'm a fucking neurotic.

wicked.

[and now it seems that 'wicked' has somehow reappeared in my vocabulary, despite years of attempts to banish it. kick.ass.]

10:57 p.m. - 2003-01-21