I woke up this morning, after sleeping well thanks to some pharmaceutical mayhem from the doctor, and immediately checked my notebook and found out I had a calculus midterm (the second of two) in an hour. That was after already skipping my Czech class. I feel awful about that, it's like the third week in a row that I've cut on Monday, but what can you do. So I had one hour to make my sheet of notes that we are allowed to bring and mentally prepare. And shower. And take insulin. And eat. And walk to class. And buy a pencil to use. And it was a fucking rush all morning. Then I took the test, and didn't even use the fucking sheet I spent an hour frantically preparing, and I think I aced it. I know I got at least 90 out of a hundred.

So fuck. I'm exhausted. I got film back from the lab today, and I have one slide that is fucking beautiful. The rest is junk, but one slide, it's all worth it.

Damn am I achey from that flu shot and hep A vaccine. I hurt.

I found a magazine I want to submit my essay to. It's new. My friend helps do graphic design for them. It's queer. Very graphic, but not porno. It's called Xodus. I think I'm going to submit it after I edit it again tonight. So, maybe I'll make my first attempt at publication tomorrow. Maybe not though.

I'm tired. I can't express it any other way. I'm just so exhausted. I want to go home so bad, and instead I'm going to Chicago. I couldn't afford a ticket home, and I can get one to Chicago. I mean, I want to go, it'll be great, but I mean, I just can't wait to go home and have P + M just take care of me and shit. I don't know. I'm sick of fending for myself. I always get into trouble, and I'm rarely happy. Is that how life is? They should tell little boys so they don't get their hopes up.