I used to say...

...you know you're at a low point when talking to Earle is the only thing that makes you feel just a teeny bit better about the direction of your life. I can now safely say that on my jetplane to rock bottom, I passed that particular level of pathetic about 2,000 feet ago.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the newest phase of the Rock Bottom Strip Mall: When canceling plans with friends seems like a fair trade considering the fact that you wouldn't have to actually get dressed and could remain in your running shorts/tshirts for a few more days.

Yeah, that's right. I'm that person.

More disturbingly, I'm getting that "last week of summer...I don't really want to go back to school" vibe that always rolls up in a pimped out Escalade around this time of year. I know the second we make the turn onto Wisconsin off of East-West Hwy I'm going to start bouncing excitedly in my seat but for now I just keep thinking "who really needs a BA anyways? Masters? HA! I scoff at thee, higher levels of education!"

As a general rule, I attribute this feeling of "just 5 more minutes...please..." to several months spent as an unproductive waste of space. Yes, I survived and managed to have fun doing so but surviving/having fun is a far cry from doing something worthwhile and last semester I was so damned productive that Dr Bennett felt he should send me a letter congratulating me on my achievement. The downshift, which was very much needed in May and June is now just plaguing me with doubts of my own self worth and, ultimately, that's just not good for the psyche.

So, in order to maintain the semblence of mental health that I've managed to create for myself these past few months, I'm going to suck it up, keep my plans and maybe even put on a skirt. But I'm still going to grumble about paying $3.00/gallon. Sept. 15 price break, you haunt my soul and one day you will pay for your endless taunting, crazy-guy-who-wears-lipstick-in-Billy-Madison style.