He didn't write to me and I don't know what that means.

Probably nothing. Like Laura says in High Fidelity. Probably nothing. Complete with poorly-obscured Danish accent.

It's beautiful outdoors, simply beautiful. It's glad-to-be-alive weather. Me, I'm surprised to have survived the day with minimal battle scars. I got up at the crack of dawn (okay, 7:30) to do my Spanish homework that was due at 11. Said homework required going to the library to check out a book that was on reserve. When I got to the library, the book was out. I finally got it at ten, raced through the homework writing as fast as I could, then realized that it was ten till and I had to go to class. So I went and photocopied the two pages from the book that I needed to finish the homework, handed the book back in, hightailed it to class, and finished the homework while the professor was chatting and erasing things for the chalkboard and such. In short, I got it done.

Then on my lunch hour, I had to write a two-page paper. I got that done, too. I wrote it on Steele and Emerson's differing perspectives on what makes a man.

"What makes a man, Mr. Lebowski? Is it having the courage to do the right thing, no matter what the cost?"

"Yeah, that and a pair of testicles."

"You're joking, but perhaps you're right..."

But no, I didn't quote that in the paper. I got it done, and it was okay. Not stellar, but I felt better about it than I have about most things I've written lately. And I went to Shakespeare lecture, which was good, and then Shakespeare discussion, in which I think I actually fell asleep for a total of about thirty seconds (highly disturbing, especially since I slept something like seven hours last night) but finally woke up when I decided that chewing gum might help. And then my lit survey discussion, which was cool and involved Keats, who is brilliant.

And then I left and started walking home. A beautiful day. The weather is gorgeous. But as I turned onto my street, I realized that I was going to come home and check email. And I didn't know at all, not in the least, what Curtis was going to say to me. I got so scared I felt sick. I still kind of feel sick.

But I got through the day. I got through the week. Tomorrow at ten I have my meds evaluation at the health center, and then at one I have a session with my therapist. And then I work. And then it's the weekend. Altogether it's things to look forward to rather than things to stress about, like papers being due and classes and money and... stuff. I can find a way to stress about anything. It's my hidden talent. Stupid Gwen tricks.

One thing I do need to do before I drift into weekend mode is see a movie. I'll need to write a review to run on the air tomorrow afternoon. I'm going to go see what's playing.