I finished my paper. Or, at least, I wrote four pages and a little note asking nicely for ways on how to make it longer. The ideas presented in the paper seemed well fleshed-out and generally strong enough to go on four pages--otherwise I wouldn't have turned that puppy in.

Unfortunately, I got in to my dorm at about 5:00 once the paper had finished. Somehow I was wide awake, so I grabbed a free copy of the Washington Post and read it for a while before I went to bed, planning to miss my International Affairs lecture for the third straight session. Did I mention that I hated that class? Because I do. And there's a paper due for that one on Thursday. I'm just tingling with excitement. Especially since I haven't read the articles that we need to read before we write it.

Ah well. Things could be worse. I guess.

One thing did cheer me up nicely today, though. As I was walking out of the language lab (I had French homework to be doing too--yay) this morning, I saw many fliers taped to the wall for this writing consortium called Le Culte du Moi. There was this one that read, "If you really want to hurt your parents but don't have the nerve to become a homosexual, then the least you could do is go into the arts."

So awesome. So true. Hasta la byebye.