From the throes of a (not) existential crisis.

I am in the throes of an existential crisis.

This is a complete lie, but it feels more concise (and, frankly, fun) than "I have my first college exams this week and my body has decided to attempt illness in protest (thanks, yo)." I am convinced that I am doomed to crushing and total failure, but this is hardly breaking news and more of an occupational hazard than anything else. A preliminary count totals six humans who have assured me that I will not fail these exams, college, or life in general. It is also apparent that all I do is a) study, b) put stuffed animals on my head, c) consume caffeine and/or dairy products, and d) view the internet with longing.

Granted, I am a citizen of the Internet, future crazy cat lady and douse myself in glitter with increasing regularity, but it occurs to me to wonder what exactly I would be doing were I entrenched in a thrilling and active social scene. From what I observe through thorough and exact research, "fun" in college quite often includes alcohol and illicit activity, neither of which I am interested in partaking. While I am fairly certain intellectually stimulating conversation occurs somewhere on campus, I am currently too terrified and immersed in study (i.e. panic) to seek it out.

I may be slightly biased at the present time, as I have been studying the ins and outs of genitalia* for the past two days in preparation for an exam in Human Sexuality. Unfortunately it is not a practical exam, as we all know I am the loosest of women, constantly whipping men and ladies into a froth of raging hormones, and would thus be prepared to bring such an examination to a satisfactory finish.

Such is life.


* I have also been making all of the terrible innuendos. All of them.