I've had about five hours in the last fifty. I'm half-flirting with a couple of men that I'm maybe but probably not interested in. I'm still fucking sick and absolutely exhausted and I've got one day to write a seven-page paper in German that I haven't begun. I was feeling fairly successful re: the five-page, and turns out the response is skeptical. But! At least the six-page (on my favorite fucking book ever) shouldn't be difficult. Oh my god I'm going to die. This semester is going to kill me. I have already died and this is hell. Except.
Brecht did not believe in Hell. Brecht was an argumentative atheist, and would call Bullshit on me for making a comment like that. Shit. I really hope I wasn't this out of it when I was writing my essay.
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