they found it in my socks

today i feel: lethargic
today i'm hearing: bishop allen -- the broken string
today i'm thinking: can't i just skip this whole finals thing??

It's finals week. You can see where this is going.

This morning, I had my only real Final Exam. I think I did okay. I was kind of apathetic about the whole thing (which, honestly, is how I'm feeling about most everything right now), but I went through the review sheets and looked over them at least once and really, do you think I'm going to learn a whole semester's worth of information in one night? If I don't already know it, I'm not going to learn it now, right? Right! I'm pretty sure I did okay and, if nothing else, I was consistent. Damn it. I already turned in my German portfolio on Friday and my theatre history paper on Thursday (the paper got rave reviews and I'm kind of stoked about that). That leaves me two more papers and a rather redundant performance in Voice class on Thursday.

Herein lies the problem.

After Monty, I completely lost interest in more or less everything because, so far as I was concerned, my semester was over. I made it through Tom-Tom hell with nary a scar and most of my sanity and now we're done! Hurrah! Wait, what? You want me to do stuff? ...Why?

...Y'all are weird.

So, of course, I now find myself in my room, making a rash and thoroughly ineffective attempt to write my paper on Cormac McCarthy's The Road and writing about the indomitability of the human spirit in a post-apocalyptic world and that's all well and good but I'm looking out my window at the lush green leaves and the brickwork on Smith Hall and the bright blue sky and the sun in the trees and thinking that the apocalypse can honestly suck my metaphorical balls because, regardless of what you say, Cormac-my-love, it ain't here yet. It's rigoddamndiculously beautiful today. Can't we save the starvation and roving cannibals for, I don't know, dreary ol' December?

It really is an incredible novel. Seriously. Everyone should read it and have a profound experience and all those New York Times laconicisms (Can 'laconicism' be pluralised?). It's just very surreal to write about how We're All Gonna Die when you're listening to Bishop Allen and the breeze coming through your window.

I'm leaving Car-bohn-duh-lay sometime Friday afternoon. For some reason, I thought I had a final Friday morning, but I apparently don't. I also decided to forget to tell my da about this. But it means that I get to spend more time with my 'Dale friends and wish Rando and Laramie and everyone the best of luck before they head off to cooler places and crazier dames. I'm going to miss them. Really, really badly. But I'm trying not to think about that right now. I mean, I've got Cormac to trudge through.

How am I going to pull a paper on Popular Culture's Influence On Society out of my arse? I know nothing about popular culture; I watch A&E! I should've just taken two credits instead of three. Then I could've put up the lobby display and been done with the damn thing. I've really got to start doing that whole 'thinking ahead' thing.

I am awesome at distracting myself. Can you tell?