Sweaty McSweater Pants

This week has been called many things: Hell Week, No-Sleep-Week, and The Week of Death. For me, it's some inconclusive combo of the three. It's hot as "that place" in this classroom, I have had more class hours than sleep this week, and I've definitely felt on the verge of death for several days now. I have barely ventured out of my room except to trudge through the rain to yet another class that I will barely stay awake through, and I desperately search for any spare moment to get some more Old Testament reading done. By the time I finally finish class and move into homework mode, my brain is so fried that you could cook an egg from a block away.

So why am I blogging when I obviously have no time? First, I desperately need to write about something non-hermeneutical to retain some semblance of sanity. Second, my brain is dead and there's no way I'm taking in any of this anyways. Third, maybe if I explain myself and the way I've been lately, at least some people will understand why I am the way I am.

Normally I take great joy in looking decent. Hair done, contacts in and make-up on is usually a given, as well as clothes that match and smelling delicious. This week I honestly couldn't care less. I can't remember the last time I picked up an eyelash curler or shimmery lipgloss, or how long it's been since my underwear matched my t-shirt. I've been wearing flipflops in the rain so that I can more easily take off my shoes in class, my sweaters can't recall what it's like to match the shirt beneath them, and perfume is but a long-gone memory. It's pretty pathetic.

It's only 44 hours of class in a week. I guess that's not so bad. I mean, who am I to complain? It's not as if I go from 8am to 5:15pm every day or lose my Saturday to a class I hate. Oh, wait.

Sweet, sweet last year, where have you gone? I miss you and your carefree days. Somehow 19 credits worth of writing was so beautiful compared to 16 credits of reading. Let's look on the bright side, though: it's Thursday. On Tuesday, I didn't know if I would ever make it here; this is cause for great celebration. I love you, Thursday. Your name tastes scrumptious on my classroom-silenced lips.

Today is also the first day of October. September is already gone, and it makes me sad. I haven't put the same effort in this year; I have barely made new friends and it makes me feel like I have been wasting my time. Hopefully this realization will help me get my butt in gear. When I think of where I was this time last year (here I go with the comparisons again) and it blows my mind. I have come so far, and yet I cannot make myself believe that I'm better off, except in my relationship with God. That's a lie. Yes I'm better with God, but I'm also HUGELY better off because of the people who I've come to love. Right now, the number one person in my mind is Emily. She'll be here in two weeks, and my heart already knows it. I can feel myself growing lighter and the sadness dissipating. I love her so much it makes me ache.

Tomorrow will be better. It will be Friday, which means: the week will be nearly done, I will be almost finished with my scrub lifestyle, and I'll only need to survive through a day of two intensives. And on Sunday, oh glorious Sunday, the clouds will part and the sun will shine and this heaviness of heart will depart (hopefully). Just that knowledge already makes me feel so much better. This "sweatpant sickness" will pass and I will feel human once more.