I’m back from the dead baby, this time with 110% as much existential angst and rotten poetry.

This is the final week of classes, and then next week is finals. Tensions are running high around Laf. The Library is mobbed, students are more burnt out than trashed cigarettes and hundreds of pages of reading lie unfinished, threatening our psyches. Final papers and Final exams are starting soon, everyone’s blood pressure is rising, and we’re running around like chickens with severed heads attending to each assignment.

In other words, things are pretty regular.

I’ve had a big crisis of person recently, but I feel its sort of resolved itself. Either that, or I stopped thinking about it. I won the Gilbert Prize, an award given to English majors who the department particularly likes. It comes with $700, honor, and the weight of expectations. I’m deeply honored, but struggle with the idea of me deserving it. Luckily Danny slapped some sense into me, but whatever. Now I’m just trying to clear my conscience by reading through the books I haven’t finished and not giving up. Fighting for what you love, or think you love, even when its hard, is admirable. Even more admirable is doing so without complaining quite as much as I do >_>

Maybe the blog platform isn’t for me – maybe these journal entries work as better therapy when they are in notebook form, because then they also contain my poetry and sketches and shit. Who knows. Everything’s been so crazy recently, I wanted to just journal again in some capacity to get my feelings out. Its helped in the past, so with any luck it’ll help in the now.

We’ll see. Maybe I’ll be back again tomorrow.