Breathe in

...is what I have to keep telling myself at moments like these, when the pile of work in front of me is so tall, that I can't even face it (I stopped growing a long time ago).

Percentage wise, I think I've covered 10% of my total work-load, all the way till Friday. Woohoo.

I try to look at the big picture when one of these anxiety attacks is playing hide-and-seek with me. All these grades probably won't matter in the long run. I already have a job offer, will be able to get into grad school if I wanted, or volunteer in Africa or India if I felt like, or if ALL else failed....just get married and do nothing (the questionable privilege of being a girl).

I'm not serious about that last part...but I guess the point I'm trying to make is that the world won't come to an end. Which is what I told my sister countless times during our many conversations on the eve of her examinations, when she was on the verge of freaking out.

I think freaking out runs in the family.

Knowing that all this doesn't matter doesn't help. Taking things easy has plunged my grades in the past, so maybe part of it is superstition. Nimisha's Law #4 .... The more you freak out, the better you perform.

A couple of days ago, there was some added stress due to the same thieves previously mentioned (the hospital and book people) - with the hospital people having a blast sending me even more bills, and then making it difficult to pay by not sending all the information, and then sending the bills to the collection agency. (I'm not sure what that agency does exactly, but it sounds evil). When I complained to my dad (I seem to do that a lot - complain - it's probably a good thing I can never become someone's dad), he told me to fight those people if they tried to charge a fine, and to stop being scared and annoyed at them.

Somehow, the not being scared part hit home. Why fear a bunch of mortals... who're probably having trouble walking straight on a Friday night, or keeping cavities out of their mouths? It's easy to associate faces with bills...and voices on the phone with people.

But school work is abstract. And I'm terrified of inanimate numbers and words on paper or computer screen. And future consequences.

62 days left for the semester to end. I keep wondering why I reduce life to a series of countdowns. Counting down to the summer, or spring break, or the next visit home, or graduation.

Something tells me it's wrong. Just like forcing knowledge down my cognitive throat.
But I keep doing it anyway.