Time flies when you sit on your ass in a grungy lounge all day and don't do shit.
I spent roughly seventeen hours yesterday holed up in my room churning out a ridiculous aesthetics paper that ended up probably being some of the worst writing I've done in my life. I zombied through most of the day, and now I'm wide awake.
I need to shower. I feel bloated. I have theory homework and about a month of sight-reading journals to catch up on. I need to pack.
Oh, and practicing might be good. Haven't since Monday.
But other than that, I'm just about ready to kick back in my sweats and veg out in the lounge with Comedy Central and my "In Defense of Elitism" book until I leave for home on Saturdee.
There are ghosts at Peabody. Nice ones. I like them. The ones in Fleisher's studio at three in the morning sound like they're trying to tune the piano in tritones.
Two more months until the end of freshman year. The frighteningly little amount of work I seem to have accomplished this year terrifies me.
I need to shower. I feel bloated. I have theory homework and about a month of sight-reading journals to catch up on. I need to pack.
Oh, and practicing might be good. Haven't since Monday.
But other than that, I'm just about ready to kick back in my sweats and veg out in the lounge with Comedy Central and my "In Defense of Elitism" book until I leave for home on Saturdee.
There are ghosts at Peabody. Nice ones. I like them. The ones in Fleisher's studio at three in the morning sound like they're trying to tune the piano in tritones.
Two more months until the end of freshman year. The frighteningly little amount of work I seem to have accomplished this year terrifies me.