You whack, you stupid, you girl's a hoe, you broke, the kid ain't yours and everybody knows. Your dad thinks your stupid, you be like "so, I love my baby momma, I never let her go"

ahhh school school school.
I'm on a caffine jolt. My nerves are vibrating. I'm tired, weak and my bones hurt. I just want Christmas to arrive. I want to drink martinis and become immersed in novels that I am interested in. I want to see Jill. More than anything, I want this fucking paper out of my life.

Last night, after tirelessly typing page after page, I went out for a few hours in honor of 22 years of Paul. Seriously, I had such a fun time, I wish I had brought my digital camera to post pictures because so many awesome things happened. It was awesome to walk home from the bar; i've never experienced that novelty. I didn't get to drink a lot but it was still really funny. After I got home at 2 a.m., I worked on my essay for longer. I feel like it's shaping up alright, but I feel like I don't know what i'm saying half of the time.

I think last night may have been Dartmouth's best dance party.

I'm glad I went.

Happy birthday Paul!!