November 15, 1999 Monday
There comes a time during each semester, that every professor decides to tighten the reigns he or she holds over us–all at once. This usually comes, oh, right about now as we are all looking towards Thanksgiving with big, shiny eyes and a string of drool hanging from our mouths.
Could we just get to a break without a vice being applied to your skulls at the last moment? The Academia Gods decry, “Not on your life!” Must it all come crashing upon us with all of its collective weight. “Such is as the world is and will be,” sheik the Gods.
And we, the meek and underclassed, prepare for the tumor that will soon grow in our brains from the computer screens warms glowing warming glow.
Melodramatic? HA! Try telling that to me when I don’t have an exam today in Geology that an archeologist would bomb, concerts to attend Tuesday and Thursday, and papers due Wednesday and Friday.
But I digress. What is sleep, and why it be important to me? Or nerves, for that matter?
No One Will Believe You 