dickson plaza

i almost had a panic attack last night. i haven't come close to losing it in a long time, but last night, i felt super overwhelmed and wasn't entirely sure how i was going to deal with my life. i was busy from 9 in the morning until 8:30 last night, running from class to class to meetings to work to meetings. it was way, way fun. and then i came home and had to study for a midterm i have tomorrow, because tonight will be entirely dedicated to putting the finishing touches on the next issue of the flying squirrel. this midterm is probably going to kick my ass because it's all theoretical, and for some reason, i cannot wrap my brain around it. last night, i also discovered a twenty-five page article i had to read for class this morning, and another joyous bizarre body issue to compound the one i've been suffering from since last thursday (one which forced me to make another visit to the ashe center, the happiest place on earth). i don't know. i'm just going to have to have a massive celebration tomorrow after class, when i can finally stop for two seconds and chill out (and maybe return gilmore's call from five hundred years ago).

my stomach hurts and i probably have colon cancer.

switching gears, i hate walking to campus on mondays and wednesdays because i leave my apartment at 7:30 am, and have to walk by a huge line of cars waiting to start work in the morning. these cars are full of men who stare at me, and there's seriously nothing that irritates me more (seriously, and that's a mighty claim for i am always irritated) than being totally objectified just for having a vag. i hate that. i've never understood how women think that's impressive or exciting or a fat compliment. it always makes me feel hugely uncomfortable to not be able to walk down a street without knowing that some foul dude is staring at my chest, when i'm wearing a sweatshirt, no less. i don't pretend to be a card-carrying feminist, and yeah, it's fun to feel attractive, but there is definitely a time and a place, and walking through a church parking lot at the ass crack of dawn isn't really an invitation to be whistled at.

i'm currently listening to my coworker spell "dickson plaza" over and over again, and am thanking my lucky stars that every person who has called me today has known how to spell.