Writing a large paper worth 50% of my final grade.
What I have done tonight:
Ate peanut butter pie, watched the Heat/Mavs game (my heart is a little broken, but I'm happy for Dirk), went on a bike ride, stopped by The Elms, remembered Aly didn't live there anymore (miss you), talked sports on the steps with some wardies, made a ham and cheese sandwich, practiced spelling the word "sandwich" (I always spell it with an extra "h"), got on Facebook, accepted all 28 pending friend requests, facebook stalked everyone I know, facebook stalked everyone I don't know, made toast with nutella, wrote a poem, wondered what the big deal about Bachelor's degrees were anyways, bought a bus ticket from Baltimore to New York City (calm down, I know I am not currently in Baltimore), lay on my bed with my head hanging over the edge dramatically and cursed the world, watched this YouTube video, added Ellen DeGeneres on twitter, drank three glasses of orange juice, blogged about it.
Remember this guy? Well, the paper is for his class. And seeing as how he scares me out of my mind, I really should care more about it, especially since I'm fairly certain karma/his hook hand are already out to get me after that post.
But all I've been able to think about all day is how MANY papers I have written over the last four years and how I just don't think I can write one more.
Marathon runners hit their wall, and so have I.
The worst part about papers is that no matter what you do, it always somehow ends up being 2 in the morning and you realize that no matter how bad you don't want to write this paper, you are going to have to do it, and you should have just done it seven hours ago when you were sitting on your couch throwing things at your roommate just to see if she would notice. (She didn't)
Ahhhh. The agony.
I'll never make it alive.
But if I do, I'll blog about it tomorrow.
Farewell readers, it's been real.
(I wrote "goodbye" first but "farewell" seemed more appropriately melodramatic)