Stupid stupid me. It seems that I will be writing some kind of letter shortly to claim to Klingy that I am suffering from some form of madness created by my anxiety over this essay. I have a whole page and a half now, which means that I only have 8 and a half more pages to go. I feel really weird and dizzy right now and that's not really good. But I'm going to keep pushing until I get at least three pages. that's a reasonable goal, right kids?

I found some of Freud's writings on Hamlet on the internet so at least that will make things a little easier.

I had a good weekend--I played a stupid amount of Halo on the Xbox. MOnty came over with it yesterday, and I am slowly getting better at it. If you're not familiar with it, it's basically your standard shoot 'em up-Wolfenstein-esque kind of game. Damn it's fun. I used to be a big Wolfenstein kid back when I was, like, thirteen. Which was actually 7.5 years ago. Damn. But anyway, Monty created a Halo drinking game, which Benjamin and I had great fun with. Since I really suck at the game, I ended up doing about 6 drinks in 45 minutes, so I dropped out of the game and read my Norton Anthology of Poetry in an attempt at drunken snobby intellectualism.

Unfortunately I think Kori is a little mad at Benjamin (and consequently me and Monty) for having spent most of yesterday together and not with her.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone...even though there's only two minutes left. I personally think we should come up with some kind of St. Andrew's Day as a celebration of all things Scottish, particularly whiskey, tartan and me. (Even though I'm only half Scottish). Benjamin pointed out to me that Robbie Burns Day probably counts as Scottish day, but I demand a St. Andrew's Day. Anyone with me?

I don't really have much to write about, owing to a large amount of not actually doing anything for the weekend. My family has now returned from Myrtle Beach, where they had the audacity to go without me, the buggers. It's good to have them back though, I miss talking to them when I can't. Especially the Squidge. the Squidge rocks my world.

The end of the year is approaching stupidly fast. This scares me a lot. I can't be almost done second year--I just can't. That means I only have three more years of avoiding real life and living in the lap of luxury (heh) before becoming an actual person. Stop the world, I want to go back to sleep.

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