i think we all feel the same way about school doing the ending thing. summer sounds nice.
im writing a paper on Tupac. no, not even on him. Having listened to his Greatest Hits album, i am now writing a five page response to it.
im trying desperately to make three hundred dollars appear in front of me so that i can fly to north carolina for three days in the middle of a class week. fuck.
its bedtime. and i have the xhaust.
i sat inside the main building, virtually stagnant and slowly baking in the heat for three hours while waiting on the housing lottery, only to find out that they ran out of houses at 583 and my number was 585. and then, luck is my friend, and maya called and pulled my group of three onto her 526 and we got one of the last apartments.
ella ann will be here and before i know it i will be running around inner harbour like those people with the duck-quack noise makers hanging off their necks.