When you've missed more classes than you've attended? When nothing short of the instructor sitting down with you to set up a completely different curriculum and schedule specifically for you would save your ass that semester? When the subject in question is so convoluted and irritating that even doing that almost definitely wouldn't save you anyway?

Unfixed told me a bit ago about how empowering failing a test could be ... and ya know, I'm not even going to mention how pathetically I performed on that particular test, but I will say that the class I was worried about then is one of the two I'll have to drop. One step in the empowerment process, as she explained it, was realizing you didn't really need this class anyways, and dropping it.

Here's where -- yeah, really, I can't possibly come up with an expletive strong enough to express my feelings on this one -- here is where this sux: I'm a psych major. I want to go to grad school. The classes I need to drop? Higher-level pscyh classes. Pretty much required if you want to go to grad school.

GODDAMNIT! Fuck. Fucking shit, man. Really. If making myself look like an asshat in front of the very professors who'll probably be denying me entry into their grad school in a few semesters wasn't enough, if pushing back my graduation yet further wasn't enough ... pretty sure I'll have to pay back all the cash I was granted for this semester. Um. You know, the cash that, for the most part, went to a downpayment on my nice new car.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No two ways about it, kids. Really, I should have been real with myself about this weeks ago. Screwing with yer GPA? Check. Screwing yourself financially? Check. Making it clear what a piss-poor student you can be to instructors you really ought to be impressing? Check.

Oh right, but it gets better. Not sure how withdrawing affects one's GPA, so a concern is not only having to pay back the present financial aid, but of potentially not getting any come fall semester.

Tch. You know, I'm supposed to be in class right now. And you may think, "Well, right there's your problem." Excepting, of course, that I don't have the point-heavy work done that's due today. In fact, I don't even have the actual assignment for that work, since I wasn't there when it was given out. Nor do I have the work that was already late for the last time I'd been at class.

Hm. Let's see here. No getting drunk. No getting high. Not even a frickin cigarette. So ... what? Would sex make me feel better? Hm. Oddly enough, kinda doubtful. Not really feeling too randy under the circumstances.

Nope. I'll tell ya what I'm gonna do. In the tradition of many a depressive throughout history, I'm just gonna go back to sleep, with very vain hopes that things won't look so bleak when I wake up.

Y'know, if a movie's ever made about my life? Can we just skip what a suckass student I was? I mean, I'm really a pretty bright guy ... just way, way too easily distracted.