On the Nature of Anticipation
Okay okay okay. People are harrassing me about summer and such, so here's the plan.
I'm going to New York! huzzah! But not for the whole summer, so I can still see people. I'll be home for the second half of May, then be in New York for June and July, then come home and be there for all of August until I go to Spain. Suffice to say, I can't really focus on school right now. Nothing matters except taxi cabs and Jewish delis and badly managed intersections and general big city hullaballoo. Yay!
I don't think this whole "final exams" shinanigan will hit me until I'm sitting at a desk, with a packet staring at me and a pencil in my hand, and I realize I don't know anything and don't care as much as I should.
And now, because I'm in the process of putting together a final presentation on the neurobiology of romance, I shall end with an inspirational poem:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
My dopamine systems
Are making me love you.
I'm going to New York! huzzah! But not for the whole summer, so I can still see people. I'll be home for the second half of May, then be in New York for June and July, then come home and be there for all of August until I go to Spain. Suffice to say, I can't really focus on school right now. Nothing matters except taxi cabs and Jewish delis and badly managed intersections and general big city hullaballoo. Yay!
I don't think this whole "final exams" shinanigan will hit me until I'm sitting at a desk, with a packet staring at me and a pencil in my hand, and I realize I don't know anything and don't care as much as I should.
And now, because I'm in the process of putting together a final presentation on the neurobiology of romance, I shall end with an inspirational poem:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
My dopamine systems
Are making me love you.