I pray that something picks me up

First final is in...about four hours. It's Comp, so I'm not at all worried.

I really hate seeing the grades on my Lit papers. Yes, they're B's. But if I had any other teacher, I know most of them would be A's. And that bothers me.

I really need to stop listening to this song. It rubs salt into the cracks in my heart. But, somehow, I don't mind.

Breasts are feeling better. I've bound for a little bit, to run out to sell back books, but I'm unbound now.

Meh.

(no subject)

So, Comp final...I don't think I bombed but...eh.

However, it doesn't matter much. Got the last paper back.

Perfect score. And he suggested I submit it for some type of award next semester and...

I, um, yeah.

I'll probably have a better emotional reaction later, when I'm not in a hurry (study session for Psych final in twenty minutes, blah).

(no subject)

So, that emotional reaction...

I guess there's not much outside of OMFGexcited...but that's tempered by my usual pessimism.

The uber-excited...winning any kind of award would really help my chances of getting published. (sidenote: Started editing Pearlshine again...headdesk)

Pessimism...the competition.

I don't know. We'll see. I'm going to meet with Mr. Meyers at the beginning of the semester so I can talk to him about it.