Aggression and 10

I went to bed at 5 and woke up at 9:30. "Will the job call," I began to think obsessively about the very real possibility that I may not hear from them. Even they called my current supervisor last Friday. I heard they don't waste their time unless they're interested. I'm just sick of waiting. I want to get out of this place so bad right now. I don't know where I want to go. I just want to leave. Escape, really. And I want the stupid bitch hag who lives at the end of my street to stop screaming at the top of her smoke-haggard lungs. I want to hit her every time I walk by her, because she's foul and she makes my skin crawl. But that is what I get by living in Windsor Castle. The aggression is obviously still brewing. I'm sure it's got to do with stress. I graduate in 10 days. 10. I reached page 58 on my thesis and I still need a conclusion. I'm dropping it off tonight with Margo's doorman. (I want a doorman.) They very well may return it to me with a big stamp on it that says "THIS IS SHIT. REWRITE." I would certainly have to escape. But I wouldn't return. Of course waiting for the job. And then there's everything else that's always going on like a bad carnival. (Oh, great, the hag's hag husband has joined in the yelling. I wish they'd beat the shit out of each other and get it over with.) (And I wish I'd stop relying on parenthesis.)