I’m done. Sound a bit anticlimactic? It is. I’m really not sure now if I got an A in Hebrew or not . . . there was a mighty tussle, and Jacob’s hip has been twisted. I did okay, but . . . I don’t know. I’m just so freakin’ tired, that I really couldn’t care less at this point. And of course, my stomach is in such tight knots I’m sure I’m about to hurl. But then, what’s new about that. I feel like that through most of finals week. I pretend to eat so that my roommate doesn’t call the counseling center on me and from there I just drink Coke and coffee.
So . . . tell me about your formative years . . . maybe that would explain the stomach tension . . . it wouldn’t. All of my ulcer-like activity has to do with Asbury. It has to do with people and relationships and SIN that wasn’t supposed to corrode my life at this point. I just don’t understand how a Christian school can cause this much stress in a person’s life. The people here are idiots, anyone in any sort of authority position has their head up their butt, and they all dance around their merry way, participating in any form of disgusting sin they can, all while preaching down on us, their little ones, hell and brimstone for any lack of holiness, whether real or simply percieved. Terrible that one of the brightest lights in my Asbury existence is heretical. How can that be?
Anyway. That bitter diatribe against my school experience probably has nothing to do with any of you who are reading this. It probably has to do with too little sleep, disappointing circumstances surrounding tests, and a phone that hasn’t rung yet.
My greatest love to all.