May 17, 1999.

Gah. I've just had the worst weekend of my entire life. Really, no foolin'. When you hear "I'm Only Happy When it Rains," and realize that it's an optimistic way of coping with your life, you know that you're somewhere near bottom. At this point, with so much crappy backlog to relate, an event-by-event narration would be tedious. Instead, here's a list of the highlights in descending order of awfulness:

• spending a goodly amount of time on Saturday night worrying about which car to take, leaving a note and making sure I was accessible to my parents - then getting recalled from the Rock and being yelled at by my mom for over a half an hour while I cried and she remained unmoved by my apologies, tears and attempts at logic. I was so low at this point that the thought of going through the same thing with my dad in the morning had me contemplating suicide as a rational escape.
• commuting 2 hours from the city to B-ton on Saturday evening in order to spend time with Little Spider, and being told the minute we get off the bus that she was going out with the Maxx instead.
• discovering that the Boy had dumped my contact lenses down the drain, and not getting a proper apology out of him for 24 hours.
• dropping my glasses in the toilet while putting on makeup.
• Morgan misunderstanding something Dirk said to her at the Garden and subsequently becoming furious with him.
• fighting with the Boy.
• moving for the seventh time in nine months, yet not having any time to pack the right things or unpack what I'd brought once I got here.
• seeing the boy Morgan loves with his girlfriend.
• travelling from city to city, from night club to night club with the certain knowledge that this was Morgan's last night out for 2 months...and knowing that although I wanted more than anything to work out my problems with the Boy and sleep in his arms, that it was impossible.

and finally...

• coming back to residence to find that a Diet Coke can had frozen over and exploded over everything.

It has been a cavalcade of horrors. Why is the month of May so difficult for me every year? Rhetorical question, that.

Today I went to my first history course in 3 years. I think I'd be able to have a good time if I wasn't so terrified about doing badly. I need this course to get into teacher's college, but I need a good mark if I'm to go to the best one(s). And the idea of being marked for a book review gives me a crawling wave of the willies...even though I've done a bunch for campus media. But I think I'm still recovering from the weekend, so I'll reserve judgement on current developments in my life until I calm down.

Yeah, I don't know when that'll be either.