Salvador Dali Nightmares

Yesterday has to have been one of the most bizarre days I have had in some time. To understand this, you need to back up to Thursday night. I had the worst insomnia I've had in some time. I could not sleep at all, no matter how diligently I tried. It was just not working for me. I ended up not getting into bed until six in the morning, and waking up at 8:45 for class. Needless to say, I was not happy. Due to lack of sleep, my mind was of course in a strange state in which nothing really made sense, and my head felt as if it were detatched from the rest of my body. Furthermore, sleep deprivation also weakened many of my inhibitions, so I was thus saying things that normally are reserved for private thought. The whole world seemed fundamentally weirder than it normally is, a fact of which I was acutely aware. It was like my life had become one great big surrealist painting, and I was stuck in it. Needless to say, I was not pleased with this. Oy. At any rate, I managed to get a full night's sleep last night and am now feeling significantly better.

Finals are going to eat me alive...

I hate finals. There. I said it. I know this kind of harsh, frank street-talk may be a bit too "edgy" for some of you, but it needed to be said. They start next week, and I know I am going to hate it all. Fortunately, I only have three: Philosophy of Religion (not bad), American History before 1877 (easy as hell), and Contemporary Philosophy (I'm screwed). Throw in on top of all that a final contemptible paper, a final group project in Public Speaking, and the general mayhem commonly associated with finals, and it will shape up to be a week from Hell.

In other news, I went to the Warren Hall Christmas party. It was fun, if uneventful. I hung out with friends, and had some food, and mocked Santa (did you know it's an anagram of Satan?). I don't think there's much else to add except that after the Contemporary final, LPG, Brit, Katie, and I are going to go get trashed. We are philosophers, after all. Oh, and then Logan and I have to grade Ethics finals. Damnation.

Turkey Day has come and gone...

Thanksgiving amounted to basically a relaxing, yet uneventful break from the rigors of school. You know the drill. I didn't really get much of anything done, but nonetheless, I feel like my break was well-spent, and I returned all ready and rested to finish off the semester. The only downside was that my feelings towards my punk-ass brother were at the point where I was about to strangle him. He's such a brat. Then again, I was too at fifteen, but the difference was that I didn't go crying for help everytime something wasn't going my way. Sometimes I wonder how I ever managed to get through puberty without being murdered by relatives. Oh well.

After careful research and study, I have concluded that Guinness is better out of the tap than out of the bottle.