Fall Semesters of Classification Beginning with S Suck

I feel obligated to blog, to keep all my loyal readers (all three of you) happy.

I feel like merde, pardon my French, literally.

I had a semester like this one time before, while in college. Maybe twice, but one stands in my mind specifically. It was my first semester sophomore year. I was living in Yocum with my friend Jonathan (don't ask how, we broke rules) and I was taking 18 hours. It was the semester of Arabic, Staring Boy, and the return from Scotland, where I'd been on a spiritual high for nine weeks (or perhaps "high" isn't the word- more of a journey). Those are the parameters. I remember sometime before midterms I got so depressed that I stopped going to class and just laid in bed crying all day long. I was getting sick, my country had been attacked, I wanted to date a guy who didn't love Jesus, and I was doing poorly in my classes. It was the semester I psycho'd out on Phlebatomy Boy, had an affair with Brahm, and nearly gave up my faith in God. I made my first college C, had roommate problems with Jonathan, and had friend problems with Ben and Erika and Josh.

This semester, my senior year, is showing signs of the same- constant tiredness, too much pressure, too many classes, too much reading, too much work, friend problems, boy problems (sorry Scotty, not like you're a problem), God problems, and ... and thats it I guess. No Arabic, affairs, or plasma this time, and I'm still going to class (most of the time) but the symptoms are here. I hereby diagnose this semester as sucking.

Ha. How interesting is it that it's only the third week of school?

PS. I locked my keys in my car yesterday. Thank God that this time the spare wasn't with an ex.