Ferris Bueller took ten days off in his senior year of high school, not his freshman year of college.

I wish my life was like an eighties movie.  I'd have great hair, awesome musical numbers for no apparent reason that were admired by Olive Penderghast, and great friends.  I'd also have the ability to hack into my school's database and dial down the number of absences I've had.  I'd also still be in high school, so skipping class wouldn't be as big a deal.  Or, I would be in a fraternity, so I probably wouldn't care one way or the other.

But in the words of Miss Penderghast, John Hughes didn't write my life.  Even though one of my aspirations in life is to write a coming of age movie that outdoes my idol's life's work, it doesn't mean my own life actually is as cute, as funny, or as conclusive whenever there's a big social, romantic or family issue.  Also doesn't mean the fact that I've skipped cultural anthropology five times now or political science every single time except the first day can be made out to be cute or have a happy ending.  It just ends with me in tears, because I screwed myself over.

In a previous post, I said I loved my academic independence. I'm not so sure I deserve it anymore.  But I'll work with what I've got left. Like it or not, I have all the way until the end of December to take the classes I have now.  I should do well in them, at least pass them, being that I did pay for them.

Which is why I'm taking away my lax attitude.  I've been way too comfortable with my schedule and not following it.  I'm going to schedule study time, project time, and follow my class and work schedules to the letter.  Since positive reinforcement clearly isn't the best way to get through to myself, I'm going to start taking things away from myself.  Like I'm in the third grade. But what will I be taking away?  What will it mean?

It means no more Netflix binging until I get myself together.  No more House of Cards for me.