Actually, I’m just in “finishing touches mode.”

Then, it’s onto my presentation preparation! Which will consist of printing another copy of the paper and highlighting key phrases.

After it’s done, I’m going to a kegger and puking on the dean’s lawn.

Really tired.

Can’t figure out why I can’t finish this damn paper, which is three to five pages on my opinion as to whether the feminist revolution is over. Backed up by research, of course.

I just figured out why I can’t finish it — it’s a BULLSHIT TOPIC, that’s why.

It’s just a writing lab. I’m so NOT into trying to justify my opinion, which is, “Well, duh.”

Oh, boy. This bodes well for class tomorrow, doesn’t it? Another long night ahead.

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My rough night at therapy last week seems to have been some sort of a breakthrough. I feel far less nervous about fucking up my life.

That might not be such a good thing, but then again, I don’t care as much.

I do want to be happy, though. I am owed that — at least, I feel deserving at the moment. I feel like it’s ok to be happy.

Still not pure unadulterated happiness, you’ll note — more the feeling that when I am eventually happy it will be ok to feel that way. I am prepared to be happy. I am open to the possibility of happiness. I am pre-happy.

I could fuck this up, I know. But I am ok about moving somewhat forward.

Hooray, I suppose.