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April 18, 2005 >> Weakender

Vowing to make up for a weekend of absolute nothingness, I stumbled out of bed at the very holy hour of noon and prepared to get shit done.

The school is still alive, full of people studying and pretending to study and talking about how they should probably study soon. Girls look better in good weather. I coughed my approval and ambled from place to place, showing my retarded cover letter to Dan and Katty and eventually passing Pimlott's office. We talked for about an hour about IRA bombings and how an A-grade in one school and program is vastly different from an A in another. I left feeling a little better about writing and my quest to find a distinctive voice in this cluttered world of words.

Carly was conspicuously absent from the pubs office, so I grabbed a pita and here I am now, eating it with a fork because it instantly fell apart in my hands.

I always get a grim sense of satisfaction when I click Submit to post an entry like this, an entry that clearly offers nothing but a synopsis of my day. But, you know, this is me being productive. Sorta.


Posted by Chris at 04:32 PM >> Commentations (5)

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