As I write to you, I write with my body creaking like the steel in a ship at sea. On a whim (as only it could be) I decided to go with my roommate to something called Absolutions. Not a good idea.


"If you can't feel the exercise, take your arms over your head to FEEL THE BURN!"

"I can't feel my abs . . . Ben! Leave me behind! Tell Billy . . . tell him I love him!" *collapse*
If any of you know me, you know I don't exercise. Of course, you would also bet that I wouldn't go to the gym of my own free will. And you would lose that bet.

WE would lose that bet.

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On another note, classes are folding in on me. After a week of some sort of severe allergic reaction

and not going to classes I should have gone to . . . well, let's just say to not expect any visual art anytime soon.

But it's not all bad. We had something of a "poetry slam" (not so much a slam as a "let's read dead poets' and the most emo works the world may offer while two guys read modern poetry with gritty and mildly erotic

themes" (thank you, Doc, for being one of those two)

One guy's poetry or rather his way of reading his poetry SCARED THE SHIT

out of me (and Doc, you can guess who that is), makin' Dracula look like a novice of the realm of drama queens.
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I also got . . . HeartGold, son.

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In other news, I did get a job offer to be an RA in Lee Hall next year. Kinda bummed that it's on the side of campus furthest from my classes, the good dining halls, and most of the most beautiful parts of campus, but hey, stipend, free meal plan, free room and board.
Not to mention the power . . .
. . . sweet, glorious power . . .

Ahem . . .