TAC has just informed me that I won't qualify for work-study next year. This is unfortunate for a couple of reasons ( Read more... )

Something really weird happens to the people on this campus during finals week, as three hundred sleep-deprived people try to pound eighteen weeks worth of material into their heads. In their spare moments, they compose fake valentines ending with the sentiment "you are my hypostasis" and play Find-The-Antecedent with an excerpt of Aristotle text. ( Read more... )

Oh, what's that? Seventeen weeks since I've updated? Whoops.

I want this semester to be over. What's that? Finals come between me and my break? Shut up!

I just blasted obnoxious Czech pop through the library. Yes, I did.

I kind of want to run screaming into a brick wall and give myself a concussion. Either that or curse at the top of my lungs in this pin-drop-quiet library for a good seven minutes straight. No, of course I'm not stressed. Why do you ask?

Don Rags = talk more and for God's sake study your lab homework.

Paper = stuck in the quagmire of my illogical thought processes.

Sanity = nil.

I just learned
A dozen logical reasons why
the sun rotates around the earth.
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
is the sound my brain makes in protest.

I keep surprising myself by what I say in class, but not really in a good way.

Summer 2007= the summer Julia (AKA the Doormat of the World) FINALLY grew a freaking backbone ( Read more... )