(but I'm actually not mad - I envy your mad analysis skills, yo)
I have never gotten a D before in my life. For those of you who have never known this pleasure, it's not exactly a liberating kind of feeling. In high school, I was a hardcore straight-A kid. And not to sound like somoe pretentious elitist asshole, but high school was easy. I didn't have to study - none of the classes were challengin. I never had to stay up all night unless I was uber-procrastinating again. In college, I learned that the world of post-secondary education is bound there were more important things than grades. But grades still matter. Especially when it's a fucking D. This is not the long-dead uber-perfectionist in my head who threw a pissy tantrum when I got a B in Phy Ed sophomore year from that Swenson bitch. This is the superego of Doc wondering just how badly his abilities have crashed and burned, and what the likelihood of a salvage operation is.
Yes, I stayed up all night again last night. Yes, I know I'm getting too old for this shit. But you know what? I actually think better when my ass is on the line. My mom always says - if it wasn't for the last minute, nothing would get done. I learned a lot of things from my mom - and this is probably the least useful right now. Procrastinating, for me, is my worst vice. See - right now I'm trying to get in touch with a bunch of people when what I really should be doing is homework. For Real - due Friday. Yeah - see, the class never ends. And I don't know how much more I can keep up. My mental energy level is not where it's been in years.
Granted, I've been through some pretty harrowing shit in the last three years. I had just started feeling the pressure of the Math/CS double major thing when I had a small bowel obstruction. (i.e. peristalsis stops in your small intestine from irritation, so you can't digest food, and your intestines fill up with undigested food until you can do nothing but puke) I had to leave during finals week to go to the hospital. I was in the hospital a week - with no diagnosis as to why I had an infection perfectly typical for a life-long drinker of 45, or, somebody with Crohn's disease. So, chalk up mental anxiety number two (number one being the depression - but that's another story). WIsdom teeth out, then pneumonia - so chalk up another 2.5 weeks of bedrest. I slept on a bunch of people's couches while I was back in the Cities, finishing up finals crap. It was near the end of August (the 23rd, in fact) when my family, in our Dodge caravan, collided with the ditch-digging machine on Highway 8. My brother Mike fractured his arm and spine - my mom had broken ribs and scarring from the seatbelt - my brother Pat had internal organ damage and bleeding. My dad was driving - both of his ankles, right knee, left hip - pulverized. He walks with a cane now. Probably will for the rest of his life.
And me? Except for the bruised joints, I was fine.
And I hate myself every day for that - every god damn day of my life.
And I carried all of this into Fall semester - whereby I dropped Real Analysis (taught by Saxe) for the first time, and Adv. Symbolic Logic. I didn't take more than three classes a semester after that - because even when it was only two and some independent studies, I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't think hard enough. I didn't have that will to go on that I see in so many of you.
Waking up for me is hard - every day. Sometimes, I want somebody to mug me and kill me - it would all be so much simpler that way.
Oh, and again - I'm not planning on committing suicide, for those of you who are thinking what I know you're thinking.
I am, once again, seriously considering withdrawing from Real Analysis. If you have something to say, I'd highly suggest you say it now - I need input, because I don't have the energy to solve this all by myself.
PS- The usual reaction to any one of these stories is, "I'm sorry." It's okay if you're sorry - I'd rather you said something than bide your time in silence. I think everybody on LiveJournal could use some of that right about now.