Barring other problems, I’m going to Notre Dame this summer, y’all. If you’re too scared to swing, don’t step up to the plate, right? Now I just have to work on not missing. I felt miserable about my decision, which is a bad sign. So I enlisted the help of Mr. “He’s fond of you” to compose the eViL e-mail reneging since, according to him, “Men can rationalize anything.”

I want to turn them down, but I don’t know how because I don’t have any other reason other than, “I don’t wanna!”. *whimper* “Them” being the awe-inspiring, prestigious group of scientists that want me to work with them this summer and want to give me money. Lots of money. I want to say no. But I want to say yes, too. But I don’t know that I have the skillset. And I don’t know that the leading scientist has the patience to put up with a lack of expertise while I struggle to learn. It could be stressful. I’m a wimp. I don’t want to be stressed during my…

People seem to love me for my responses. If you poke me, I may squeal. If you sneak up behind me at work, I will become flustered and distracted. I get worked up, I giggle, I laugh, I frown. I’m a walking, talking, entertainment center.

That’s just the coolest of quaint sayings, particularly when it’s said to me. This has been a fairly up and down (but mostly up) week. I’m tired and decently sleep-deprived, but some of that comes from inefficiency in working earlier this week. Took me a minute to bite the bullet and accept that vacation was over. The newspaper this week was very mediocre, and borderline bad; I mean that in terms of the entire experience, not only the end product. And it was pretty much all my fault. I fucked up in so many ways because I let fatigue and impatience and the thought of a couple hours of homework…