I am not dead but hey now it is finals time! Oh dear. In a week and a half I will have the ability to write words that are not papers about theatre or WWII, and maybe also sleep like a normal person, not in chairs in coffee shops and libraries. 

It's so very strange to think that this time of utter panic, delirium, and harried productivity-- finals time at the University of Chicago-- will soon no longer be a part of my life. And the next time it will be different, the last few mad weeks of my entire college career. As grad school is currently not something I'm really thinking about (although maybe some day I may feel an MFA is something I would like to pursue), this will really be the end of formal, full-time schooling for me for a very long time, possibly forever. The structure in which I have been operating my entire life (I don't remember anything from before age 3, when I started preschool) will no longer be what determines how I spend my time. It's fucking terrifying. I am, however, also really excited. Maybe I will actually write the play I've been occasionally considering. Awwwwlllright.

 Alright, time to desperately scramble to get my shit together. Awesome.