I truly feel that the only thing that keeps me going this week is knowing that there will be a new O.C. this Thursday. I'm sleepy. Too sleepy. There are huge bags under my eyes and my eyes droop. I need sleep, and I just can't let myself. I'd want nothing more than to just fall asleep at830. That would give me a good nine hours. Heaven. I can't do it though. I've tried, and usually wake up around 230. My body thinks it's napping if I go to bed t hat early.
I'm very paranoid about what I write. I think my writing should be an extension of myself and it should be a fair representation of who I am. Therefore I should strive to write in a way that makes me proud of myself. Even for yearbook, I should always strive for perfection. I'm too much of a perfectionist. I make drafts when I'm writing yearbook articles. I draft more than Ms Eaton wants me to in creative writing. I rewrite and revise every day until it is due. I'm psychotic, too psychotic? It's not a bad thing. My perfectionistic tendencies have always seemed to result in something good, whether it is high praise or a high grade. My paranoid quirkiness usually ends up being good, even though I break my back in the process. Maybe it's too much, but it never hurts to aim towards being perfect. I'll stop when I have a breakdown like Mariah circa 2002.
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