woman I used to be

So it's Tuesday morning.

I walk into my Literature After Modernism Class 12 minutes late, only to be hit by a bag of shit. Apparently today is our Peer Review class in which we were expected to have a copy of our Final Paper's thesis, points we wish to develop on, and a sheet of points made by our T.A. I have none of the above. Not only do I have none of the above, I haven't even taken a look at the essay (mind you, it's worth 35% of our final mark). AND to add insult to injury, I've only read about 30% of the books we should have completed by now.

So, I can:

a) come up with something on the spot

(oh, you didn't know Bullshit was my middle name?)

b) be honest with my professor and ask for more time

or

c) fake an injury, grab my things and ruuuun the hell out of class.

What do I do?

Something to the tune of c). I "search" frantically through my bag for my make-believe notebook, mutter some curses under my breath, and jet to the door, down the stairs, and far, far, far away...

So when did this all start? How did Christine go from being an honour-rolled, distinguished, academically-awarded high schooler who managed to earn a scholarship for my first year at the University of Toronto to an unpunctual, careless university student who manages to still make good grades based on last-minute assignments and a whooole lotta bullshit?

Maybe it's the full time job. Maybe it's 'cause I have yet to reac

h the "student" mentality. Hell, maybe it's all the time I've been spending with Mary Jane.

Yea, that sounds about right. It's gotta be my mistress, Mary Jane...