Monday, September 16, 2002

I don't really have anything to say.

Nothing in my life has gone to "plan." I'm not Greek, I'm not attached, I'm not a stellar scholar, I'm not a squad leader, I'm not organized, I'm not a member of a church.

Oh, and I'm not going home for Thanksgiving.

It's going to be a long year. And it's going to be a long night. I don't want to start (or finish) this paper on the Canterbury Tales. Why am I an English major? I dislike writing papers, greatly.

I nearly died tonight, on my way to the library. A car swerved in front of me, trying to make a left turn. I then swerved out of the way. I was three inches from death. There was a lot of squealing of tires. That's scary. That's also the second near accident I've been in this weekend. And the third this week. And all three involved unprotected left turns. I hate LA and its lack of left turn lights.

I think I might be depressed. I'm afraid of a sophomore slump. I had one in high school... will I have one in college? This year is starting to indicate that I might.

I asked a Magic 8 ball about my lacking love life. It said that I'd meet the person I'd marry in college, but we'll fall in love after we're out of school. I laughed a lot. And then I thought about all the people I know here - and I don't know if I could see myself marrying anyone that I've met here, so far. The end of college seems so far away, yet so close. I'm already beginning to freak about the end of my senior year. I hope I go to graduate school, just so I can delay the inevitable process of finding a job.

Jennifer's To Do List:

I want to go into the Peace Corps. I want to live in England. I want to get a Ph.D. and a J.D. I want a car with windshield wipers on the lights. I want to go to a tennis match at Wimbledon. I want to ride a camel in front of the Great Pyramids. I want my own dog. I want to join the Junior League. I want to lean over the side of the Great Wall of China. I want to frollick at Carnaval in Rio. I want to survive living in LA without a major accident. I want to wear floppy hats with piles of artificial roses sewn to the top. I want a maid. I want a building named after me at USC... or a bench.

Maybe I should finish this paper. Perhaps I should start it.

Fuck.