A stressful time of the year
-Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
Ah, Marcus A. I used to carry the Meditations in my book bag like a punk in high school. I even wanted to be a Stoic, until I realized Christianity was the way to go, and was much less encouraging of suicide.
I have second-degree apathy and disillusionment, from my friends of longest standing here. I shouldn�t say any more right now, as I�ve already opened my big mouth too much. But since they�re in trouble, I don�t feel like doing anything either. Oh, I also failed my Latin poetry comps by four points. Now I�ll have to take both of them again next semester. But all the Classics professors are so kind and helpful. And if worst comes to worse, I�ll drop down to a minor.
It�s times like these that I wish I were a drinking woman. If I was used to alcohol, I could drink and numb my brain right now. Or if I ever drank coffee, I could have some now and keep myself up for all my work. Or I could, um, release my tensions in other ways. But none of these things are probably good to start during finals week. And as Seneca says, no man is free who is a slave to his body.
So what am I left with? Writing furiously in my journal and spending time with my favorite dead white males. Amy, too. I was so touched that she looked all over campus for me today just because we hadn�t seen each other in a while. It means a lot to me that I have a friend who loves me that much. And sleep, sleep would probably be a good idea. So goodnight.