halfway to dunzo.

I turned in my two papers yesterday, and now have two more papers due before my term is up. They were understandably awful; this is what happens when you write two 2,000 essays in one week without really understanding what the hell you're talking about. My next paper is due a week from Friday; I really want to finish all the reading before I go to London this weekend. It's actually on a topic that's mildly interesting - cults - so that should be at least some motivation. As it turns out, I care very little about my grades here. I feel bad about it, especially considering how much money my parents are spending in tuition, but then again, I'm really not that much of a school person. I just want to get out in the real world and start working, which I think, I'm actually good at - well most of the time. I e-mailed the editor of the Skinny today and told them I wouldn't be coming in the rest the week. Again, another scenario that didn't turn out the way I expected. I just didn't see myself working there until 5:30 p.m. again, and then coming home and reading for school when I really have a lot of work that needs to get done before I leave. I would obviously never quit this early, but I don't think they really needed my help anyway. I just hope my decision to not finish my week affects whether or not my article gets published. Probably should have thought that through. It just turned into more of a hassle than I began to think it was worth. I just hope this doesn't become a habit.

In other news, there are now just five more weeks left in the semester, thank god. I don't think I can handle any more school in at this uni. I think maybe what bothers me most is that everything I've been doing is pretty much identical to the life I have back home. I go to class, I go the library, I come home, I make dinner, and then I go to bed. Occasionally I go to a bar or a club, sometimes I'll watch a movie, etc. Obviously the only real difference is that I'm not around my friends when I do these things. I feel fully adjusted but not any happier necessarily. Well I'm happier than I was a month ago, but I'm feeling marginally the same as I was feeling in Boston: unfulfilled. I hate this feeling that I'm not really giving something my best. Maybe I still don't know what I want. I suppose that's an OK feeling at 21 years old.

I'm not sure what I'll get at the end of all this. Maybe I'll learn something about myself? Who knows.