(no subject)
i am the last person left in my apartment; everyone else has gone home for break. now, i could easily down the alcohol in our refrigerator while running around our place naked and blasting the shit out of kanye's new cd. however, i choose to write a fucking paper. hm. you know how "they" say the presidency is an aging job? i could say the same for the 4 years spent in college. i've grown up. fast. different kind of aging, i guess. substitute the gray hair for the copious breakouts and i think they're pretty even. for the first two years of my college "experience" i felt like i was submerged under water without an air tank. i couldn't breathe. where the fuck am i going? am i going to make it? as an upperclassman, i'm treading water. i'm flattering myself. let's go with doggy paddling. okay. i'm doggy paddling above the atlantic ocean. with delicious grades (knock on wood), a job, and an internship, i can finally breathe. i'd also like to add that i am in love with my major and it is, without a doubt, the best decision i have ever made for myself.