I have less than a week until the end of the summer term. Most of my classwork is done; I just have one final project--a PowerPoint presentation for my computer class--due next week. I'm obsessively checking my grades to make sure that I'm maintaining my 4.0 grade point average. One of my professors hasn't yet graded all of my work, which sends me into near-panic because I'm terrified that the work didn't upload correctly. But I know it's there. I can see the uploaded files, but I still check the file names and formats and syllabus and due dates at least once a day to make sure I didn't fuck something up. Then I think about next semester, particularly about the four-weekend psychology class I'll be taking, and keeping my 4.0 grade point average, and the world literature class, and--
Christ, I'm ripe for an ulcer. Or an early heart attack. I know, I know: I'm fucking neurotic.
Christ, I'm ripe for an ulcer. Or an early heart attack. I know, I know: I'm fucking neurotic.
hysterian:
Don't stress it! You are going to get that 4.0!