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Guilt

Today's Dickdrive's birthday. Happy birthday! Didn't I already tell you that?

Today was the last day of classes. Wow. This, of course, means that my French paper is due next Wednesday [at 5pm instead of at noon according to Dr. McRae's e-mail, which means that I'll be procrastinating on it for five more hours].

We had a group "exam" in fencing today. It was supposed to be an individual exam, but Joe couldn't get in his office to get the copies of the exam, so he had only the main copy. This meant that the six of us in the class alternated on the questions. According to Katie's tally, we passed. Not that we wouldn't have anyway.

I noticed that I've been sitting alone rather often at meals lately. It feels like that time right after Nanowrimo when I was trying to re-enter the non-noveling world, and nobody was used to seeing me back. I wonder if this is because nobody really does want to see me, to be near me, to acknowledge my existence. I try to ignore it by sitting alone instead of sitting somewhere because I'm invited just so I won't have to sit alone, but the truth is that I'd rather sit alone than with people I just don't want to sit with, with those who have already established their social groups. I try to ignore it by immersing myself in my work, but I do have to leave my work to eat and sleep, and sometimes I feel guilty when I do that.

I have that guilt conscience in me. I'm such a workaholic, yet I procrastinate like there's no tomorrow. Even when I procrastinate, I feel guilty because I'm not working. Last night Shea asked me to stop by the Beltane festival, so I did. I stayed for a few minutes, but then I realized that nobody would notice if I left and returned to work. I left, but I didn't return to work.

I don't think I would feel guilty if I were really having fun; I think I just feel guilty because I know what I should be doing to make the best use of my time, and I'm not doing it.

Like now. I should be working on my multivariable exam, studying for my linear final, revising my FYS paper, writing my French paper, or doing laundry. Actually, laundry is the most calling, since I can start to pack after I finish it, and that's a good thing.

But what can I do to wash away the guilt that seeps through my skin?