Sitting in Psych.

I made myself go.
It's an hour and a half into class, at least. Almost over.
I don't know how he's gonna respond and if I'll be able to make enough up to get a decent grade. Might have to drop. Get a Drop on my record. Waste of time. Waste of money. My fault. Knew it. Knew I'd mess up. There was a test apparently. Sigh. I'm gonna tell him about my whole mess with Julian. Usually I go by "don't explain; don't complain" for everything in life. It's my motto. When it comes to real love and real job and real friends, it doesn't fly. It's disrespectful. But for my airhead jobs and the shallow guys and bureaucrats that comprise of MY life. It's the goddamn Secret. Whoops. Sorry. I wasn't in. Couldn't make it. I'm gonna need this material. Thanks!

But yeah this professor likes to hear about the skeletons in our closet, pick them apart, psychoanalyze them, etc. So...

Ok less than an hour to go. 9% battery left on my computer... I wonder how long that is.

So other wacky things Julian said. Well, I asked him if "the child you're expecting is from the same... as your daughters?"

He nodded. "Which means I should see if he's going to look like the mailman."

And... yeah, the confusing of pronouns... "whether I should be mad at you" instead of "whether you should be mad at me" and "i don't wish that on you" when the comparison was about his ex... "primitive urges" and just the whole everything. And calling it "this Perfect Storm." Indeed. Indeed.

Now I bet he won't call me anymore, now that I told him his behavior doesn't make sense to me.

Psych is over. I talked to my Prof. I'm gonna do fine. He didn't even want to talk about make-ups but I did tell him about Julian and he had a ball with that. Though his advice was actually very sensitive and understanding.

Sigh. Cry-time.