I am now entering my 26th hour of consecutive conciousness, and the easy part is over. My normally hellish Senior Project class passed without major incident, and even a few sparse words of praise. Thank you, William Shakespeare, for being so iconic and prolific a writer that a lowly design student can throw virtually anything onto a poster and claim it to represent some of your work.

To the Pratt CommD bigwig who I know is at the very least aware of this blog: I did not say this. I am not here.

Now, I just need to make it through lunch with enough spare energy to stay awake during Bookbinding. With luck, awake enough to learn something about binding books. With a lot of luck, enough to catch up with all the bookbinding knowledge I missed last week. And oh Mother Mary, Glib of Tongue, give me the grace to weasel out of not having that assignment done.

Senior Year! It's nervousbreakdowntastic!

(and oh yeah, happy birthday again, CLM. great party. i pay for my attendance with each continuing moment of half-alseep nervous ticks and strange moving shapes at the corners of my vision. i regret nothing.)