Extensions a-plenty.

Wow, I just realized that the emoness looks simply awful on Internet Explorer. I mean, yeah, I don't care about people who use IE, but I still decided to fix it. See, now, Firefox could handle it, which is why I didn't notice anything, so nuh.

Okay, so... how'm I doing? As pointed out in the title, I have a certain degree of stress relief stemming from extensions. I'd like to say I got it trough bursting into tears in the middle of class, because that is dramatic and makes for a better story, but in fact the one was just arbitrarily thrown out to everyone by my journalism teacher, who does everything arbitrarily, really, and the rest is, well, little more that the new breathing room allowing me to take an objective look at what I have to do. I've got advertising tonight, but if I can get into the proper state of mind, I'll enjoy that. Journalism, I've got a week. French... honestly, I have until the end of the year, and even then I could blow off a lot and still get an A because Ms. Mitchell is one Nice Lady. Mass Com, I've got a week and a half, I don't even have to think about it for a week. Job... I don't, honestly, need one. It's the sort of thing I try not to acknowledge, because most of my friends are less fortunate, but I am basically a rich bitch, and I've got another couple years' grace period to take a free ride. So... it's something to get on because it's the right thing to do, but not an emergency. Housing... um... I'm going to be rooming with a friend anyway, I'll let them take the initiative.

[Deep breath] I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine. And hey! I'll be seeing Nicole in, like, five weeks, or thereabouts! Assuming, of course, I'm able to calm the hell down and stop bugging out at her unfairly, which, while stressed, I tend to do. And while I'm not going to apologize for being like that; it's who I am, so be it; I do wish to express, publicly, my regret for my wrongdoings. I tend to not forgive myself for anything, to the point where I still feel bad for things I've done months ago that she's completely forgotten, so I think she's mad at me for no reason, when obviously she's not, but I freak out and don't realize the obvious. This, of course, proves frustrating for her, which I then feel bad about, and the cycle continues ad infinitum, compounded, of course, by the fact that I'm 850 miles away and can't pick up any of the interpersonal cues inexpressible through text or phone. So... yeah. I'm working on not being like that. Doing a poor job of it, but working.

It's a lucky thing I'm the sexiest man alive or I'd be in big trouble.