Have a final tomorrow at 10 am...
...and I should be either studying or sleeping. Utterly unprepared. That's probably why I feel the compulsion to update. Aside from the gift from God called "procrastination," it's just a matter of me not wanting to do anything to get closer to the time when I have to take this test I'm not ready for (and, I might add, can't think of anything else I can do to get more ready for...I went through my notes, thought "hey, this isn't so bad," looked at last year's questions, and went "FUCK"). Wait, actually, procrastination is the gift man gives himself. God would probably want me to work for his glory or something like that, instead of making a LiveJournal entry.
So here's the thought of the night: if I could leave here on May 21 or 22 or so, I think I would.
Finals end May 14, and I'm in one of those moods where I don't want to remember what happened to me in a given night. The last time I had this mood, I managed to combine at least 5 different imbibed and inhaled intoxicants into some kind of toxic brew that had me going up to my friends and insisting they have some of my "Super Cool," the Upright Citizens Brigade-inspired name for Pixie Stix, which I was carrying with me, enjoyed something of a sugar high from, and then fell asleep while they were still in my pocket, creating quite a grape-flavored mess with an extremely spotty recollection of the night before. Mission accomplished. Oh man, I totally forgot about the Super Cool...that's at least 6 different intoxicants.
Ben comes into town May 15, and we get to hang out. Woot for USC friends in London, even if it's only like a 10-hour layover before they go right back to the airport.
Alex's birthday is on the 20th, and I think you can imagine how the English celebrate birthdays. Today was Scott's (though he's Dutch), and everyone chipped in to buy him 13 pints of beer (after he was already pretty tipsy from some 63% rum). He was a champ, though, he totally chugged the first one in a flash right in front of everyone. I haven't seen him in a few hours. I wonder if he's still alive. Anyways, yes, a British birthday usually starts at like 11 am or noon and keeps going for at least a good 12 hours of pub crawling.
And then.............
Then nothing. Which isn't to say I'll be bored, I'll certainly pass the time. But Janine gets here the 22nd, my sister gets here the 27th, and that time is going to be so divided and dedicated to others that I have no idea how much I'll get to invest with the people here. Lucy's birthday is the 25th and I think she's celebrating on the 27th or 28th, and I already know I've got theater tickets with Mila and Janine for the 27th.
Basically, from this point on, I'm already locked in this hideous, self-destructive countdown mode where I'm so focused on how little time I have left that I spend a decent amount of it moping about it. Not very effective or productive, and pretty much counter to everything I stand for, but I'm going to use finals to say I'm not accountable for any hypocrisy, pettiness, or immaturity. Convenient, eh?
So, yeah, I would really just rather cut it off abruptly without time to dwell or let my mood degenerate. I would seriously just as soon go out for a great night with tons of people there, and then get a call the next day saying that for some reason I have to leave immediately. Nothing bad...just, like, I get a million dollars if I get back to America within 24 hours or something. You know, positive reinforcement.
So who wants to make the million dollar offer for me?
So here's the thought of the night: if I could leave here on May 21 or 22 or so, I think I would.
Finals end May 14, and I'm in one of those moods where I don't want to remember what happened to me in a given night. The last time I had this mood, I managed to combine at least 5 different imbibed and inhaled intoxicants into some kind of toxic brew that had me going up to my friends and insisting they have some of my "Super Cool," the Upright Citizens Brigade-inspired name for Pixie Stix, which I was carrying with me, enjoyed something of a sugar high from, and then fell asleep while they were still in my pocket, creating quite a grape-flavored mess with an extremely spotty recollection of the night before. Mission accomplished. Oh man, I totally forgot about the Super Cool...that's at least 6 different intoxicants.
Ben comes into town May 15, and we get to hang out. Woot for USC friends in London, even if it's only like a 10-hour layover before they go right back to the airport.
Alex's birthday is on the 20th, and I think you can imagine how the English celebrate birthdays. Today was Scott's (though he's Dutch), and everyone chipped in to buy him 13 pints of beer (after he was already pretty tipsy from some 63% rum). He was a champ, though, he totally chugged the first one in a flash right in front of everyone. I haven't seen him in a few hours. I wonder if he's still alive. Anyways, yes, a British birthday usually starts at like 11 am or noon and keeps going for at least a good 12 hours of pub crawling.
And then.............
Then nothing. Which isn't to say I'll be bored, I'll certainly pass the time. But Janine gets here the 22nd, my sister gets here the 27th, and that time is going to be so divided and dedicated to others that I have no idea how much I'll get to invest with the people here. Lucy's birthday is the 25th and I think she's celebrating on the 27th or 28th, and I already know I've got theater tickets with Mila and Janine for the 27th.
Basically, from this point on, I'm already locked in this hideous, self-destructive countdown mode where I'm so focused on how little time I have left that I spend a decent amount of it moping about it. Not very effective or productive, and pretty much counter to everything I stand for, but I'm going to use finals to say I'm not accountable for any hypocrisy, pettiness, or immaturity. Convenient, eh?
So, yeah, I would really just rather cut it off abruptly without time to dwell or let my mood degenerate. I would seriously just as soon go out for a great night with tons of people there, and then get a call the next day saying that for some reason I have to leave immediately. Nothing bad...just, like, I get a million dollars if I get back to America within 24 hours or something. You know, positive reinforcement.
So who wants to make the million dollar offer for me?