I'm back to my old mistakes. I skipped both my classes today, and my poetry reading last night at O'Reagan's Pub (wherever that is downtown).
I've got my second psychiatrist appointment tomorrow. I don't know how that's going to go. I don't have much to say, except that I'm lazy and impossible to work with. Either as a teammate or as modeling clay.
I'm also wasting an afternoon I could be spending doing laundry, buying groceries, seeing Vlada, buying Paint It Black tickets, whatever, sitting around in my clean room with my unwashed clothes and my dirty body. Oh and also I need to pay rent.
To add to the list: I've written one, count it, one poem since I handed out my second package a month and a half or so ago, and I've made pretty close to zero progress on Windswept. I'm so glad I don't have any final exams to write or I'd have to be really worried. I guess maybe hopefully I can pull myself together for the final chapbook. God. I hate that I'm in a program where I have to make chapbooks. I hate stupid fucking workshops. I hate being scared to show up for class because I'm not willing or able to participate in honest and frank discussion of other people's work.
I wish I knew where this was going. I wish my birthday was midsummer. I could at least get a taste of being twenty before school starts (or doesn't) again. Eugh. I need a Trillian and a trip to Madagascar.
At least let me get 16 more wins. That would be nice.
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