A Note From A Worn Out College Student Who Is Tired of Coming Up With Titles

Yesterday the people one apartment over were playing Christmas music. It made me happy because I'd been wanting to set my Pandora to holiday for the last two weeks, but I've been abstaining to relieve my conscious, which is already suffering from the obscene amount of sugar that I've consumed recently and my Friday City Hunter marathon (i blame you, kelsey). However, with my next door neighbors playing Christmas music I can take pleasure in it without feeling any guilt. Bless you, Josh Groban and Bing Crosby fan.


The walls in my apartment are so thin. I can hear my next door neighbor's cell vibrate when it's on her desk. I hear them laugh at two o'clock in the morning. I don't mind that. I'm just slightly wary, wondering what it is that they're hearing from my apartment.


Sorry, neighbors. When they start killing people off in my shows I get angry. Also when my TA's don't update my grades, when I know the update will take me to an A(-). It's OK. I'm sure we all get close by sharing our emotional trauma, and the secrets that slide between the relatively few atoms in the dorm room walls.


One of my teachers mentioned how dorms are never quiet. I hadn't realized it before, but it's so true. It snowed Friday, and I didn't notice (city hunter marathon). When I mentioned it to one of my friends she said, "Didn't you hear everyone freaking out?"

"It was Friday night," I told her, "Everyone is always freaking out on Friday night."

And it's true. They're out there until two o'clock in the morning singing songs that were born in the nineties and, if the world were fair, would have stayed there. Forever. Which is fine with me, as long as it's Friday. Tuesday? Totally different matter. A couple nights ago certain tenants were being unusually rambunctious. I laid there cursing them in my head, until my roommate yelled, "SHUT UP!"

I appreciated my usually mild-mannered roommate screaming, mostly because I didn't have the courage.

It's funny what exhaustion and stress will do to people, though. The last couple weeks I've seen it in my classmates faces. The skin flanking their eyes is black, and there is a sort of hollow look that accompanies anything a teacher says. Something along the lines of, "Wait... You're actually still expecting us to be capable of thought processes more complex than what it takes to work a can opener? This late in the semester?... Are you sure you have a doctorate?"

I think Thanksgiving will do us all some good. My teachers are as ready for a break as my classmates. All of them canceled class on Tuesday, even though the university has made it very clear that cancelations are immoral in nature. No one really cares at this point. We want to get to the turkey.