I know, I forgot Friday. Let’s pretend this never happened.

Monday. Midterms. God damn it. So not only do I get to be neurotic about my abilities, but I get to be formally tested on it. “Steve, despite your insistence, you do not suck in such-and-such ways. Thanks to our modernized testing techniques, we find that you actually suck in these whole new ways.” Gee, thanks.

Am I really doing so poorly? I don’t know. The uncertainty is painful enough. Knowing my capabilities for catastrophic failure enhances the dread. I still have that zero hanging over my head, you know that test a few weeks back. It still gives a realistic possibility of course failure. Never mind the high grades in the rest of the coursework. Further on, do I have the money, time, or want to take a course over again? No. The answer is a hard curt, “No”.

I find it strange how my life literally revolves around this school practice. I put off real life chores from grocery shopping to truck registration to voting all because I doubt I have the time. The fuck. And even when I’m not studying, you know, just burning time taking languidly long breaks; wouldn’t you know it, it has to do with procrastinating over god damned school work. I wonder if things’ll continue this way or will I ever get find a groove. Will such a trend continue once I reenter the workforce? Likely, yes, and yes. And in both scenarios, I’ll find my groove. Beyond getting that groove back, I’ll find boredom. Beyond boredom, the desire for a new challenge. It’s all a beautiful circle.

One more paragraph. And it has to do with stresses from family. My father, bless his heart, cannot find a scammer he doesn’t like. They take all his money, ghost him, and he still gives them the benefit of the doubt. When confronted if he’s in the midst of yet another scam, he poo-poo’s the topic despite heavy precedent against him. This has been a trend for the past decade. From shifty contractors to fake damsels always in monetary crisis to foreign lotteries he’s won but needs to pay before receiving his winnings; I swear to god, the facts bring me low. Though I want to, I can’t fucking save him. I can’t even save myself. And to look into the future and know he or we won’t have the money should financial problems arise. The truth stabs oh so deep.