I got my grades today. Three As. An A- in zoology. And an incomplete from Steve. Got an email from Steve today. He says I "write very well indeed" and am in a good position to get an A overall pending my play review.

I am such a jackass. I wrote Steve's final in an hour. 1600 words in an hour. I read maybe 3/4 of the plays during the semester. I never said a word in the class. The most effort I put forth regarding his class was constantly bitching about his [lack of] teaching methods -- oh, someone remind me he was woefully inept at giving any sort of feedback at all. Wonderful lecturer, hilarious, absolutely brilliant -- bad professor. Right? I'm such a freaking jerk. I'm going to get, worst case scenario, an A- in his class. I am an ass.

I put forth so little effort in any of my classes. I know what it takes to get by. I mean -- I know what it takes to get an A, and the bar is never set that high, and somehow I can never do it for intellectual value alone. I know how to get As. And yes, I write very well. I more than get by. And I'm a jerk.

Okay, so now I'm hyperventilating, loathing myself, and rushing headlong into a full-blown academic crisis. I need someone to bitchslap me for complaining about these grades and bragging that I've done nothing to deserve them. I am a creep -- no, I am not asking for sympathy or reassurance.

Oh, get a grip. I don't like myself when I do this. I had a strong semester. I need to accept that. I did work hard. I did write good papers. It was a strong semester.

And I feel this way because I can do better. I have the raw materials for it, but I can't claim to want to be an academic if I don't start doing something with it. I have wasted all this time. I have wasted this week. It is past time to just fucking do it. Stop coasting. Excel.

I know what I have to do.