Se acabaron las tesis
well, that’s all folks, it’s over. Dave took me out for a lovely dinner at Plate on Tuesday night in celebration of the termination of CompLit, and I told him then, It’s so anticlimactic. Not poetic, not lyrical, nothing. Maybe it just hasn’t quite hit me yet; maybe it’s that I’m too preoccupied with the nice weather and planning my [very] abbreviated summer. Or maybe I’m just weird.
I’ve felt the need to relax the past few days, after Monday’s madness, the dismemberment of the thesis, and my three hour cookie break/Starbucks run 16 hours before my thesis was due. Whatever, fuck it. I was so exhausted with that damn thing that by the time 4:00 rolled around and it was time for class, I was a little *emotional.* I might have even started *crying* in class when Professor Schoenherr asked me why I looked to tired, and tried to explain Sedley’s *motivational* statement that my thesis “had no point” on Sunday afternoon. Not so happy about that. Nope. Don’t really want to talk to him for a while. Nope. Funny thing, his name is David. Ha.
So tonight’s activity is in continuation with my “Cinema of Gambling” theme, in lieu of Class Night here at Haverford. I haven’t attended a single Class Night, and I see no good reason to start now. Instead, I made a trip to Genuardi’s for some fresh (mmm) baguette, middling quality sushi, and fresh strawberries (mmmm), and then headed out to TLA to rent some quality entertainment. Vacillating like nobody’s business, I finally decided on “The Hustler” and “The Cooler” (last movie I watched for fun was “Rounders,” as you can see, I’m on a kick). At the counter, a blonde girl walked her golden tanned self up next to me in perfectly un-wrinkled white linen pants, and a whispy-cute yellow tube top with a satin bow. Gag. Ick. Why do people have to look so *perfect* all the time. She asked for “Love Actually” and that made everything better. I mean, she may be hot, but at least she’s got shitty taste in movies. As I left the store, I saw her pull out of the parking lot in a shiny lexus SUV. Hmm, and now *everything* makes sense.
I’m tired, and Paul is waiting for me by the pool table with my glass of red wine, so I’m outie.