Mae and I got stopped for carrying more than one piece of fruit out of our goddamn cafeteria. What the hell is that mess? I swear, they’re going to have to stop me every damn time, and they’re going to have to pull the book on me about this, because I surely do not pay $1000 a term for breakfast and dinner and one or two salads on weekends. Heffa, please. They lost my love when they couldn’t accomodate me during the sack lunch mess. In other news, I attended a showing of “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” last night here at Rose, which was awesomely entertaining. It was…

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…