"Look at his hair and fingers. We need to figure out if you're gay."

Dear life,
Why didn't you tell me I had the first art history paper due last Thursday? What the fuck? I mean, I know it didn't seem like the sort of thing Kathleen would do, especially since she hasn't even gotten our paper topic proposals back to us--that seems a little weird. Soooo, I'm waiting until tomorrow to find out exactly what's going on. That's right. I might wonder why I did this later on, but probably not. It'll be okay. I'll catch up and do well in that class.
Actually, I kind of wish I could just not do this semester, call a vacation term last minute or something, but then I wouldn't graduate on time. I'm afraid of my grades, though so far I'm doing just fine in all my classes.
Also, why do I feel sick all the time these days. My diet is pretty much the same as always. That's the only justification I see for feel gross perpetually. Maybe exercising would make me feel better?
Furthermore, I need to get unlazy about dressing fancy and bizzare. It's been a while since anything more than a dress and pants. Especially if I lay my clothes out before going to bed. In fact, I'm going to do that right now, dammit.
Perhaps if I start getting motivated with little things, bigger things won't seem so daunting?
It's worth a try, right?
Anyway, that's it.
Bye
--Phoebe