3 months, 3 weeks, 4 days to grad.
I was sitting in Sandy's apartment last night, studying for this evening's Marketing midterm. I always study better surrounded by people, I think because I know the guilt I'll feel if they see me slacking off, which doesn't happen when no one's there to witness me working alone in my room. My laptop was balancing on my knees, and I scrolled through Powerpoint slides with my right hand on the keys while my left hand held a piece of my freshly ordered pizza.
"You look like a drone."
My mind was ripped from the world of capitalism and promotion as I looked at Dawson quizzically. "...What?" I'm already conjuring up images of the Borg.
"You look like a drone. Staring at the screen. Pizza. Rar." He mimed what I looked like, and although Dawson is known to exaggerate, it still hit fairly close to home.
I don't want to be a drone anymore.
I need to get out of this place.
"You look like a drone."
My mind was ripped from the world of capitalism and promotion as I looked at Dawson quizzically. "...What?" I'm already conjuring up images of the Borg.
"You look like a drone. Staring at the screen. Pizza. Rar." He mimed what I looked like, and although Dawson is known to exaggerate, it still hit fairly close to home.
I don't want to be a drone anymore.
I need to get out of this place.