Well, the first draft of my thesis is in. It just goes to show you: just because you can do something, like write an undergrad thesis in 2 and a half months, doesn't mean that you should. I literally had two nervous breakdowns from this weekend -- most of the work was done by then, but I guess the whole thing just got to me. It's an interesting feeling -- being sanely aware that you're sliding into insanity, but I pulled out of it. At a point when I started seriously panicking about being downtown and not knowing what to do, I decided enough was enough, so I rented Disc Two of Season One of "House," literally ran home through a literal downpour, quit life for a little while and watched a marathon. After all, when you don't know what the hell is the matter with you, what's better than watching a cynical jerk try to figure out what's wrong with other people?
I feel much better today. Actually, it started as soon as I ran home through the rain. Seriously, what's more Hollywood bullshit than pouring on someone when they're in the middle of an existential crisis? It lifted my spirits, just like in the script, except I didn't have anyone to passionately make out and rediscover a purpose of life with when I got home. But I realized at that moment I'm a better writer than God, which propelled me through another day. Tomorrow, back to chemical stimulation.