Forgive me

Readers, I am tired and my professional life is horrible. I am taking a break from writing tonight because I have a stats test tomorrow night and need to get at least an A- so that I may get into Columbia.

I am tired (working 11 hours and crying at your desk yet again will do that to you) and promise to write how my life mirrored a porn this past weekend rather than a sweet romantic chick flick.

To wet the palate:
martini bar + flirtation with a russian + after party in some blue collar bar + 2 nutty drunk Irish boys + drunk driving + nutty schitzo + a hotel room with lesbians having sex + porn = my Saturday night.

Oh yea, and the wedding was absolutely beautiful and found that the ceremony instead gave me such a respect for the institution of marriage. Through that respect I realized that I could never tarnish its beauty with not marrying someone who is not my soulmate. So in the pressure cooker that has become my life: get into Columbia, find job that gives me intellectual satisfaction and doesnt make me cry, get accepted for the Q-ball (this society ball in NYC--poofy white dresses and men in dress tails), get published, and while doing all this simultaneously, find my soulmate.

Instead of studying, I am going to bed right now.