Chronic pattern of overwork

 
I've resigned myself to an entire semester of being exhausted, if this weekend is anything to judge by.


INTERESTING TEACHERS:

• American History looks like he broke peoples' kneecaps with tire irons for a living, and then decided he wanted to live a little more dangerously and went into academia. (I think it's the gigantic silver watch and very tiny head and the fact that he dresses like a Serbian mobster.) But he passes my decent teacher litmus test, which is, "When the teacher stops talking, do the students stay quiet?"
• World Civ is very opinionated, very competent, very strange, and would rather be at the University of Chicago. Or some other Institution of Quality. According to the librarian who's willing to gossip about faculty, he's never tried to leave.
• Business Law wants substance, class, substance, give me substance, your answers have to have substance, it can't just be one sentence, give me substance, class. I like her a lot, though.

And I've got another Incompetent Toddler this semester, this time for macroeconomics, and I like economics. I had a really good teacher for micro. I'm going to be so bitter and angry by May, thank god for venting on Twitter because the teacher doesn't have the stones to tell me to get off my phone, etc; and thank god I'm that very special kind of bitter that drives me to work really hard on my own.


The New Roommate is an odd duck, but in a mostly benign way.

New Fringe is making me happier than it should. Yes, Peter and Olivia, be broken some more, you cannot ever make that window whole again once you've thrown the baseball through it, and oh, what a baseball.