I can't do my work!

It's not that it's hard. I somehow can't convince myself that it will make me happier than looking at ugly pictures of myself on the Facebook for ten hours a day. My right eye has been twitching a lot. Probably stress related. The thought crossed my mind today that I should just stop with this college stuff all together. I'm making a running list of all the things I could do instead that don't require lots of certifications and artifacts and portfolios and more standardized tests (I have to take the PRAXIS this summer, whatever the heck that entails). Spying, of course, is at the top, followed by various artisan jobs, working at an antique store, giving massages to fabulously wealthy and attractive people (would get really obnoxous really fast), or maybe gardening downtown. Flight attendant, but not really because flying a lot secretly makes me nervous. I once talked to a woman who works at Midway Airport and has never flown on an airplane. She said she was scared if it, anyway. It seemed odd to me, but I guess if you like Chicago that much it's not such a big deal.

I got my tape back from Will so I can start packing. His hands are lethal weapons, he says, but chances are unlikely that he'll find himself in a position where he will need to kill me with them, which is definitely a relief. Boys...

I have a bus ticket for Madison. I will use it tomorrow to go there, and when I am there I will hang out in the library doing research and pretending that I am a city cat. I will not to waste too much time looking for sushi or trying on cool clothes in the stores on State Street or watching the sailboats on the lake or making eyes at strangers. I tell myself these things and hope they are true, because if I am unproductive or miss the bus home I will be completely fucked and also miss the Ellis Marsalis concert and money making.