Dr. McShaffrey,

I haven't been doing the level of work I expect from myself in Zoology for a few weeks. I've let myself get bogged down in so many other things this semester, and I'm sorry. Most of all, I'm angry at myself. And now, there's this --

I won't have my lab report ready to turn in tomorrow. It's not because I'm having difficulties with it; I just put it off too long. There really is no excuse for it, just the simple fact that there's no way I'll be able to turn in a finished product I'm at all satisfied with by 1:00 tomorrow.

I don't think it says in the syllabus what your policy on late work is. I would understand if you won't accept the report late at all. But if I could turn it in by, say, Monday at 5, with a letter grade deduction or any other penalty you find fair, I would really appreciate it.

Again, I am sorry I won't have the report ready. I will get my act together and hopefully not run into any more of these problems.

Thanks a lot,
Lauren

---------

I've been having such a bipolar week.

I thought this semester would be different, and to an extent it has. I have done more of my class assignments and readings than ever before. But still I'm procrastinating on the big stuff. This is the first time I've looked a big academic challenge I'd committed to in the face and said: I just can't.

But I've been officially accepted to the University of Utrecht for next semester, and I have all sorts of fun paperwork to fill out. And professors to thank, who all seem very excited for me. And I'm tremendously excited - it's such an adventure - I really can't wait.

Emails and IMs don't get answered and I plummet; the answers come and I'm back on a high.

I rediscovered a pretty dark side of myself last night that I'm not proud of, and was surprised to see. Nothing too sinister. And nothing I would ever allow to influence me or my personal relationships again. But the attraction remains. It's just a weakness I'll always have.

And I miss and love and still think about my first real best friend.

And Elliott Smith killed himself.

And I fail to live up to my potential, or accomplish anything substantive, or work as hard as I can, or lose sleep for good reasons --

-- but there are times I would do anything for those who try to, and that begins to make me feel better.

My dad is so tickled to hear me writing on an upswing I don't think I'd ever write to him when I'm like this; it does me good to hear him reply: "I cannot remember when you've passed along so many wish list ideas. Thanks. Hope we can live up to your expectations. haha :) (see I can do that too!)"

And my mom titles her emails "mommygram" and calls me "sweetie darling," and I can hear her waxing Edina.

And overall I just have the best support group in the world, between my parents and my best friends and my professors I can send ridiculous emails to and the people I run into in the hallways and have impromptu conversations with. I really love all of you.

I can't really remember the last time I was happy or sad. And I know I've never known misery.

And I'm not sure if I like myself at the moment.

But it's enough.

gonna walk walk walk four more blocks plus the one in my head
elliott