1:53 AM

Four nights. In a row. 187 Minesweeper games (best time, 118 seconds Expert--not good enough). 4 hours Rome Total War. 8 hours of newsifying. 8 more of constant checking and re-checking of every blog on my list. Equally constant checking of the fan fiction sites--some people have no concept of their responsibility to procrastinating students--not enough updates. 18 hours of sleep in 4 days: not bad, not too good either. Five Dr. Peppers, four beers, three ginger ales, two shots of Ouzo, and not nearly enough water. And 50 pages to write, five finals to prep for, and one life to keep living.

Yup. It's Finals Week. And if the Lord of the Vineyard had not ordained that Finals Weeks could fill no more than 1/25 of each year, we would all have killed ourselves by now.

Only 51 hours till the hypothetical end of the drama. 51 hours to finish. I daren't think of incompletes--because if I think of them, I'll ask for them, and I'll get them, and then I'll never finish. That way lies madness.

So now, finally, as the final gauntlet heaves into sight, the pressure finally comes to bear. I always say that I need to need to get my work done--if it doesn't matter, I won't do it.

I forgot how much it sucks when something has to get done and it's 2 in the morning and my brain is backfiring on caffeine and I haven't slept right for half a week and there's no alternative but to push through and do it.

I only wonder if it's still possible. And hence, naturally, faced with impossibility, I don't buckle down. Instead, I blog.

Let this writing live through the ages, a testimony to American Higher Education and the insanity of the American student.

Specifically, me.

*UPDATE*

Make that 50 hours to finish. I wasted one writing this.