march 2, 2001. Today the first year of my department put on something that can loosely be described as a "curriculum fair." In partners we were to develop an interdisciplinary project with unique activities that students could complete relatively independently. We also had to plan for children who don't read, children with limited or erratic speech, children with restricted movement and children with Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Not an impossible task by any means, but a very intense one. Since this was the grande finale day, there was more than a little relief among the participants. Not so for me, though. I applied for 2 campus summer jobs today, which meant that I had to keep sneaking away from the displays to fiddle with transcripts & the like. One stress piled on the other resulting in a girl who vibrated at an extremely high frequency, as Brigit might say. And whenever something tiny would go wrong I would hit the panic button. To make things worse, I had a huge ethical dilemma at mid-day. My application packages required an official transcript, but I didn't find out about this until midnight yesterday, so I figured that I was fucked. But in the morning, I talked to a girl who did her undergrad here, and she told me that I could get them for the same day if I ordered right away. (Rhymes. Cool.) The only problem was that the advertised price of transcripts is $5, I needed 2 of them and I only had $4. I found a sympathetic ear in the next room, and she leant me all of her lunch money ("I brought a big muffin," she assured me.) At the transcript office, they told me that copies were only $2 each. So. With the money I had brought for my lunch, I could pay my friend back in full. On the other hand, I was starting to feel lightheaded and weak from hunger and I knew that I couldn't possibly last until 5 p.m. without food. Would I pay back her selfless act in full? Or would I weasel out, pay her $6 & get a sandwich? I got a sandwich. I'm simply incapable of taking the high road when my stomach is involved. Most of my fights with the Boy happen when I'm hungry (and another significant amount when I'm tired). When I ran out of dining hall money in second year because I was constantly feeding Alexi & Poet, I reached the end of my emotional rope faster than anyone would've thought possible. I am not proud of this. I just hope that I'm never in a Hitler-type situation where my allegiance to evil is based on my fortitude during enforced-starvation.