June 28, 1999.

Oh, the sickening rush of approaching exams. T minus 1500 and counting. Last night I believed that I was about to go down in flames and waste a) 6 weeks b) over a thousand dollars c) a hell of a lot of effort. Then my mood would swing, and I was sure that I could get at least six hours of studying in after the essay was completed. This is an ok outcome; 6 hours is the most I've ever spent studying. It just means that I can't waste hours & hours cleaning the bathroom, catching up on email and spending time with the Boy.

Alas, the essay took until 3:45. It's 6 p.m. now, and my mother will be by in an hour to take me to the symphony. Tonight's program is the venerable "Last Night at the Proms," an annual event of stoutly pro-British music. Like Royal Weddings, nights like this help me to expel my lingering Imperialist sympathies before they can build to a dangerous level. This is another thing that I agreed to months before I knew how my schedule would work out, and although my mother is willing to let me study, I think it'll be better for my state of mind if I'm allowed to yowl "Jerusalem" in a public setting. The importance of calm to stressful situations and all that. Hmm. We'll see if I'm this philosophical at 9 a.m. tomorrow.

"'Heaven's only got two composers, Elgar and Liszt. Can you imagine an eternity of Elgar and Liszt?'
Aziraphale slumped in his chair.
'Only too well,' he muttered."

- crowley & aziraphale, 'good omens'