Preppy is the New Hipster

I want to die. I want to die. Actually what I would really like is for someone to explain to me why I am the most stressed out 23-year-old-woman on the planet. I dont know what it is. I munch on B-complex all day long, excersize at least ten times a week, eat lots of spinach, cross my ts and dot my is, and yet, I toss and turn at night about things that I am supposed to be doing. WTF.

I have come up with the term free-floating stress. FFS, for short. Wow I really like to bitch, dont I? I think it is fun. I am actually so delusional that I dont think people mind it. I couldnt be more wrong. My friends hate me for it. My sleepover friends really hate me for it, especially since I like to start first thing in the morning, sometimes before the alarm goes off. I mean what could I possibly be thinking that people like this shit. I mean what could be more fun than to wake up next to someone who is like "fuck fuck fuck, I dont want to _________. I really hate __________." Wow, thats great. Please come over tomorrow. So I can start my day being pissed off too. The thing is I am actually a generally happy person.

These days I feel as though I am scrapping the bottom of the barrel. Why? I am not sure. A combination of things to be sure, including but not limited to my work situation, my mediocre work ethic, the LSAT, the idea of how to ask out my lsat teacher without seeming typical and when I am going to have time to do it, studying for the LSAT, finding a replacement for my environmental duties at the neighborhood association, laundry, eating well, making time for the gym, bleaching my teeth, taking my vitamins, paying my bills, looking for a new place to live, wedding present for CJ, vacation time and my lack of it, traveling, some guy that I dig that can't date me bc a-doesnt want to b-doesnt have time or c-is probably married, Hezbollah and Israel, affording my 401-K, saving money, getting along with both my mother and father, what to wear to work tomorrow, when to pick up my dry cleaning, buying a record player, getting glasses, getting a shrink(probably wont happen).

So I just listed 27 off the top of my head. Of those 27-I have actual total control of 16 of those things. I guess that is not too bad. 16 is just a little ball of stress, not a big one. golf ball size, not rugby.