Grumpy little worker bee

I hurt. Everywhere. Every single muscle is a mass of knots and aches. I think I need some ibuprofin.

My work-study boss seems to be sincerely pissed off, at least in the note she wrote to us workers. Can't blame her--I guess they found an empty beer can behind the desk. How that got there, I don't know. To be honest, I have no idea who would be that dumb.

I've got an 8-page paper to write today and absolutely no urge to do so. Milton... bleh. Also, I've got German homework. I'm feeling very stressed out again, and I don't know what to do about it except try and get the mountain of work done and then get to Christmas break as quickly as possible. Almost a month off... oh, yeah, that'll be nice. Maybe I'll even do something crazy, like go to work for a week or two. Insanity, I tell ya. But it's work that I never have to take home with me. When I'm done in the office, I can leave it there and not worry about it until I go back the next day.

Ya know... it'd be almost a relief to have that sort of office job for a living. I could go to work, do what I'm told, make my money, and then leave everything there when I go home for the night. No homework, no having to sit at home and be concerned about something for the next morning. In case you can't tell, I'm not particularly ambitious. I don't care about climbing some corporate ladder. I want enough money to live in my little house or apartment or whatever and have my computer and my books and maybe a little writing room. It's not that I have low standards; it's just that money and status doesn't have much meaning to me. Who cares if you're a CEO or a worker bee? Or a cashier or a manager or the owner, butcher, baker, candlestick maker?

College right now is my whole life. Everything I do has some relation to school. It's always on my mind, and I think it's going to drive me crazy long before I graduate.

Ok, enough jabbering... time to work on the paper... see what I mean?