Wait a minute, who's flying the plane?

I know I have all kinds of stuff to do. I know I have my Sound Design final project to finish (by Friday, at the latest - I hope), my Advanced Directing paper to revise, and my Everything-You-Ever-Wanted-to-Know-About-Switzerland-Plus-a-Few-Things-You-Didn't project to assemble - I know I have all these things to do, and they're all due really soon...plus various books I need to finish, peer critiques I need to get written up, and job applications I need to fill out. Somehow, though, it's not happening in the frenzied, nicotine-hazed anxiety attack that I thought it would. I'm just sort of slowly chipping away at it. As if I had time to work that slow. I've been so stressed out that I can't stress out any more, and am, as a result, more mellow than I've been in a long time. Is this a nervous breakdown? And if so, is it okay that I kind of like it?

Also, I had a margarita for breakfast yesterday. I think I just don't care anymore.

However...I did get some writing done last night. A little bit of homework, yes, but I got some actual, fictional, just-for-myself writing done. This is huge. I expect a parade.