oh heaven help me

It's 1:41 am.

I'm exhausted.

I've got four pages on my 15 page paper due tomm--today at 9am.

I'm insane.

Why on earth do I do this to myself? I don't really do it on purpose, though perhaps I do, because I clearly am never worried enough to start at a reasonable time.

I hate this part of all nighters.
The fuck-I-really-just-want-to-sleep-screw-this-paper-what's-40%-of-my-grade?-no-big-I'll-just-get-a-D-I-just-need-to-graduate part of the night.

The I'm--out-of-of-coffee-but-too-lazy-to-walk-to-the-library-to-get-their-free-crap-coffee-and-join-the-rest-of-those-in-my-same-rowboat-part-of-the-night.

The listen-to-my-pure-pop-music-station-on-pandora-radio-because-at-least-nsync-is-upbeat-tell-me-why-ain't-nothing-but-a-heartache.

The-I'm-hungry-so-I-just-ate-a-non-vegan-brownie-that-wasn't-mine-sorry-Elizabeth-part-of-the-night.

The-blog-instead-of-face-my-fate-part-of-the-night.

I need to go for a walk or something... but it's night time, and I don't want to go out walking in this town at 2am when all the sexual predators come out to play. I'll stay in my sleepy house, please and thank you.

Or I might just risk it. I may or may not desperately need a red bull or something. I hate those drinks, they're pure poison. But this paper is worth 40% of my grade. I researched ahead of time! But work happened, and poetry paper came first. I am not a right brained person. I cannot schedule to save my life. Or yours, for that matter, so look out! I'm kidding, you're fine. (No, really, look out.)

I don't have a lot of sources either. I have three books, two websites, and a shit ton of people I interviewed. I'm sort of banking on those thirty survey takers being the majority of my research. Oh goll-eee, what if I fail this paper? I want to get an A +++, but right now I think I'd settle for a C. C +.

Fuck that I want an A.

This is my LAST school thing ever ever ever--(Well, Sarah, not if you go to grad school...) EVER.

I wish I had a car. I want to go to taco bell or something.

:::knocks on Dana's door:::

Me: Dana, you busy?
Dana: Yep.
Me: Oh. (Pause.) Cool. (Pause.) Do you want to take a taco bell break?
Dana: Sorry, already went.

:::comes back and finishes this blog:::

Or possibly Holland.
Who wants to go Holland? I do.
"I don't."
What? Why not? Tell me why!
"Ain't nothing but a heartache. Also, I hate Holland. Asha says the Dutch are conceited."
I'm sure that's a generalization.
"Nope."
Sarah, don't be a spoiled brat. Listen--I'm sick of this. I never want to hear you say... 'I want it that way.'"
"I want it that way."
We're breaking up.