I Wish I Was Successful

I wish I was successful. I wish I had money from real jobs, not just the grant money my University gives me at the start of the semester.

I've always been working class. I've always done menial labor work like being a pizza delivery girl or working as a cashier. I wonder what it would be like to have a profession, to be respected, to have real responsibilities.

I turned in two term papers this week and I'm nervous! What if I totally fail miserably? I feel like a fool; like somebody who is lecturing to a packed auditorium on a topic I know nothing about---and I'm lecturing in my underwear. I have to pass all these classes. I have to advance into the next round--my final semester as an undergraduate.

I know I did horrible on several quizzes due to my grandfather's death, but I hope I succeed. I tried so hard, it is really difficult knowing you tried your best and it wasn't enough!

Ah well, if things go horribly awry I can just go back to delivering pizzas for dollar tips. It wasn't so bad. Okay, yes it was.

I had a break from academia recently. I spent the night at a couple's house with whom I am friends with. We watched movies, drank white wine, ate Indian vegetarian cuisine, and chatted about how draining college can be. Still, there's nothing like checking your grade and getting an A on something you busted your ass doing! It feels much better than delivering a pizza, I can tell you that much!