yknow

I am very afraid because I have a colleague who talks like he's in a Dilbert cartoon and another who frowns like Charlyne Yi, and another who reminds me of Michael Cera, and I wake up in the mornings to dew-covered cobwebs frosting the huge field in the backyard of my new home and badly-made orange cake. I am afraid, because I might wake up and find myself back in BMT, waiting for my turn to throw the damn grenade. I DON'T WANNA WAKE UP. I WANT TO STAY IN MY AWESOME AIR-CONDITIONED ROOM (THAT I WILL CLEAN UP TILL THE PAPER CLIPS SHINE OR AT LEAST ARE RUST-FREE) AND RUN AROUND IMPORTANTLY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT WHEN SOMEONE SEMICONSCIOUS ARRIVES WITH MUCH FANFARE AND PERIODICALLY POP BY THE TREATMENT ROOM TO DRAW SOMEONE'S BLOOD, ALL THAT TILL DECEMBER 2012, AND IT'S OK IF THE WORLD ENDS BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE I HAVE GOTTEN WHAT I WANTED AND I AM CONTENT. I'm not shouting; I just couldn't find a good place in that paragraph to switch back to normal caps. 

Anyway I'm going to haul my SAT practice book to my office and hopefully I will get like a million billion marks and immediate acceptance letters from Havard and Yale (oh, and maybe some smaller colleges like Vassar and Swarthmore, and their letters will be like "Please come to our school cuz we're small and select blah blah blah small liberal arts college blah blah blah tiny, tiny cohort blah blah blah amazing staff to student ratio cuz we're that small! come on! we're a little liberal arts college on a prairie blah blah our education is cute blah blah blah hipsters worship our alumni") and I'll be like, OH NO, EVERYONE WANTS ME BUT I HAVE NO $$$$$ :( :( :( :( :( and they'll be like, OH — SNORT — DON'T WORRY ABOUT THAT, WE'LL PAY YOU TO SIT IN OUR CLASSES, and then I'll snap out of my daydream by some whiny patient who has been waiting for 6 hours like it's all our fault. 

Oh, life is so hard. I am going out to buy a popsicle but it's not going to change anything.