Some days, I wonder why I’m graduating early

Some days I think I must be out of my fucking mind to want to be out of college.

Like today: I got up at 11:30am, went to one class, came home, did an hour of homework and then passed out for two hours, then watched three hours of television, read a book for class about Harley-Davidson, and am now getting ready to go to bed.

I have barely had to rub two brain cells together today, and I want to quit? Granted, I’m saving my dad an awful lot of money by graduating early, but that does me no good if I’m unable to find a job in this rotten economy.

I look around and see virtually no job opportunities, and I wonder what in the hell posessed me to want to graduate early.

Then I remember that I have to write two 8-page papers and take three midterms in the next couple weeks, and that I operate a lot better when I’m getting a consistent amount of sleep (no matter how small it is), and I remember why I’m leaving.

Bartending school, here I come!

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