I don't feel well. Stress sets off stomach pains. As silly as it may seem, I hate taking my medicine. More often than not I convince myself of the idea that I am just hungry and ignore it. The issue seems trivial, really, but it is a slight extra annoyance. The moral of this story is that no, it doesn't just go away, and medicine is useful or some expletive.
Nothing devoured me whole today, which I find to be preferable to the alternative. My powers of concentration have been sapped for so long that I worry as to whether I will be able to accomplish things ever again. Prediction: I will. (Maybe.) My fondness for academia really ought to kick back in at any moment and fix everything, right? Right?
The wall directly in front of me features pictures of and drawings by my humans. It makes me happy.
|Photographs picture (left to right) my maternal|
grandmother as a college student, my mother
as a young woman, and my mother, sister and
I on my seventh birthday.
Days until college: -5