So, this week of school is going great. Last week tricked us, what with the no real class and the orientations and the patios full of tequila shots and hope.
This week is all about remembering that the goal of our program is to kill us all.
I mean, it’s only Wednesday and I’m already lying alone in the dark, just staring. I’m not sure at what. Maybe at a life that is suddenly full of more writing than I ever thought possible. Like my thesis, and 1200-word op-ed insight pieces, and WHY WHY WHY does there have to be a fucking federal election each year that I am in journalism grad school?? For the love of Layton’s moustache, cool your jets Ignatieff! I want to write about other things. Like kittens.
I got home from my newspaper workshop and immediately collapsed on the couch with a bag of chips, a jar of peanut butter, and a globe and mail. I even have to multi-task during my nervous breakdowns.
I whimpered and texted MC.
ThePeach: How was your day? I just stress-ate an entire bag of chips. Now I’m starting on the peanut butter.
MC: I want my mom.