Today was supposed to be the end of the semester.
Tuesday, 12/13/05 - 8:03 pm.

I'd like to say I'm done with the semester. I'd like to feel free, knowing that my last final was today, even though I'm so, so unsure of the result and for the first time in my college life, I've thought, "I could fail this subject". It will fuck up my average, in any case.

About the "I'm done with the semester" part, no. I'm not done. Or it doesn't feel like it. I still have to go to the children shelter for the rest of the week, and improve my psychological report and give it to the mother of the 15 year-old boy. I'm exhausted, and I'm just waiting for this week to finish.

Mr. Basket and I had a talk this afternoon. I gave him the the grades of the essays I corrected, and we sat down. He started to say I'd made an outstanding job as an instructor, and he was very happy with it. He said I was great at analizing things, he could tell I was very well-read, in technique and in content, and that if it was for him, he'd give me all the "hours" I need to fulfill for my social service in-campus record (300).

Lastly, he asked me, having in mind how responsible I am, if I wanted to be the instructor for Social Psychology I, next semester. I said yes, of course! A lot of people had come up to him, but I've proved I'm very responsible and effective, and my grades in that subject are nearly perfect. And then he said I could get paid for Social Psychology II. Oooh, yay.

He ended up talking, first about literature, and then about my future graduation work...the latter deserves a "WTF?", but actually he was just giving me advice, for me and my group. It was very interesting, actually, except it was 4:20 and I had Mr. Miscellaneous' final exam at 4:30, and I still had to look for the Child Abuse Project Lady, Sara, because she had to give me some stuff. So we said goodbye with Mr. Basket. He's a funny man.

I couldn't find Sara. And she hadn't left anything for me. She's probably pissed at me, and when she sees me she'll call me irresponsible, because we'd agreed I'd pick the stuff (for tomorrow's visit to the shelter) at 3:30. I've skipped two visits, and I'll have to skip again this thursday, because I have to turn in the psychological report.

Fuck this. I'm tired. Christmas is next week, and I hadn't sent out cards, I hadn't done any shopping, and I absolutely don't feel like it's christmas, at all. And even though I sort of hate this holiday, it's my favorite one, too (wtf). I hate it that I won't be able to enjoy it.

Back to work! AGAIN! *sobs*

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