I got to the library at 8:39 this morning. My goal today is eight hours of studying. It's amazing how I can feel so pumped in the morning to do eight hours straight (getting out of here by 5:00) and how a couple hours later I feel so depressed about it and wonder if I'll even be able to study for four hours.

"It's not the time you spend studying, it's the quality of your study time." Yeah, yeah. I know. Which is why I use a timer and any time my mind starts to wander or I have to read the same passage more than twice I stop the timer and don't count that towards my eight hours.

Okay. I've done three hours now. It's 1:13. I can still be done by 7 or 8:00. Eww, that seemed okay when I thought it but now that I've typed it it sounds like bullshit. Maybe I'll settle for seven hours? No, eight hours. I can do it.

Jana had her baby this week. Wednesday. 8 pounds, 21". Stella. When I got the text message from Jana's partner, Steve, saying "Stella is here" I wished so much that I could have been there for the birth. I can't imagine what it must be like to be able to create a new life with someone you love. I wish I could have that. I'm banking on the fact that raising a non-biological baby with someone you love will be equally fulfilling, but I'm not going to lie and say I'm not envious of people who can do it the hetero way. (Although I'm definitely not jealous of the fact that casual sex could result in a child that would yoke you to a virtual stranger for the rest of your life.)

Drew and I were in bed when the news came. We had just had a pretty emotional argument the day before about wanting children. Drew has always been reluctant (and oftentimes downright anti-) and I've become increasingly pro-. So much so that now I'm 100% sure that I'm going to have to have kids at some point.

Drew and I have had other problems this month, and he accused me of using the baby thing as an excuse to drive him away. I definitely feel confused about things in general -- which probably explains the inability to focus at school, among other things. Drew said he thinks I should go on an antidepressant, which he's always opposed in the past. Unfortunately my psychiatrist cancelled on Thursday so I couldn't talk to her about that. I did tell Drew I think we should get into couples' therapy, because we have some issues that are eventually going to come to a head which neither of us wants to confront on any given day. Like, for instance, how residency (which is 3-5 years of a grueling schedule) is going to affect our relationship. How I might not be able to get into a California program, which would mean a solid decade in a city Drew would rather not live in. How having children is going to influence which area of medicine I choose and, therefore, how much money I make. I mean, no one wants to bring those things up at dinner, and when I do try to bring up something sensitive Drew shuts down and tells me not to discuss it. Enter the counselor.

Shit. Now it's 1:26.