.:Today's LSS:.

Refer to today's Film Review to find out why...

Knockin' On Heaven's Door
by Bob Dylan

Yeah yeah-eh yeah~~
Yeah yeah-eh yeah~~

Mama, take this badge off from me
I can't use it anymore
It's getting dark too dark to see
Feels like I'm knockin' on heaven's door

Chorus:
Knock...knock...knockin' on heaven's door
Knock...knock...knockin' on heaven's door
Knock...knock...knockin' on heaven's door
Knock...knock...knockin' on heaven's door

Mama put my guns in the ground
I can't shoot them anymore
That long black cloud is coming down
I feel like knocking on heaven's door

Chorus

.:Notions:.

Apparently, Elgine, my nice student in class, doesn't know about the Pink Table story yet. Well, that's interesting... heh.

At the same time, I ran into Rhea and her boyfriend last night at Hobby Haven. Rhea's really nice, and she was learning how to play Neopets while I was at the store. Jason and I were taking turns at making offhand comments regarding company she kept, though...

.:Drained. Burnt Out:.

Given my dismal efforts as of late resulting in rather disappointing grades, I feel rather saddened, as it's pretty clear that the C's and C+'s I've been getting are inexcusable. I may not be as grade-conscious as I was back in college, but I still maintain some measure of dignity in my work. Moreover, graduate school considers anything lower than a B to be failing, so whether or not undergraduate subjects are subject to the same standards, it still feels like I'm failing, regardless. Dr. Miroy even had to talk to me about it, which really made me feel miserable.

I'm drained and tired already of everything that's been going on in my life. If I had a choice, I would simply have not wanted to take M.A. studies, but my desire to teach makes that choice quite difficult. I sometimes feel that I'm not really as intelligent or brilliant as people assert me to be. Rather, I feel that I merely push myself harder to excel in the thin that I want to excel at, and right now, it's as though I'm pushing on empty. I feel like a void in me just refuses to be filled up: a void that simply takes its toll on me, as it does now.

I feel that I've been putting all my effort into this, and my only refuge was supposedly my blogging, where I could pour my heart out in hopes that a kindred soul would at the very least give a damn.

How wrong I was.

And so I pour my heart out again, like a whisper in the wind that falls into emptiness. There is nothing melodic or poetic with these words, especially when I am faced with the cold and harsh reality that no matter what I do, no matter how many times I pull the trigger on this empty revolver aimed at my head, I will always die just a little with each day. And on the day I can no longer die just a little, I die alone.

Maybe I deserve it.