i'm not really here. you're imagining things.

i am actually writing my midterm, yes i am. yup. really.

naw, seriously, i've written half of it. now that i started it, the hard part is done. i can write papers, no problem, it's starting them that's so damn hard. for now though, i'm exhausted and working in the morning, so off to bed i go. i'll finish the paper up tomorrow night and proofread it tuesday before i hand it in. pressure? no pressure...

it's come to my attention that everyone thinks i'm depressed/down/mad/rude/bitchy. well, =P to you. i'm no longer any of the above, and have not been for a few days. sorry if i seem like it, but if one more person asks me if i'm okay, i may have to eat them. with ketchup. and a bit of salt.

this has got to be the worst essay i've ever written.

and i don't even care. *sigh* ah well. so long as i get a B, i'm good. if the teacher made coherent sense, it'd be so much easier, but i'm essentially relying only on the articles and nothing else. her question doesn't even really make any sense, and that's after i got her to explain it...

but it's done, and that's it. i'll proofread it in the morning (thereby allowing the requisite one-day let-it-sit period), hate it, print it, and hand it in with my fingers crossed. hopefully my luck'll hold and i'll manage my usual B grade (B is for bullshit, apparently).

now, if only i could feel my fingers. it's bloody cold in here!