Whining I recommend you ignore

About a month until I am a college graduate, and I really, really wish it were over. The well has run dry, folks. 10-page Wittgenstein paper? Completely impossible. 7-page logic paper? No idea what to write about. 10-page Metaphysics paper? Hopefully I can stumble through that. Plus a 2-page Wittgenstein paper and a logic problem set due tomorrow, more problem sets and another short paper to come. I am over it, folks.

Maybe it just seems bad because I seem to be struggling against a cold. And I was rather hung over yesterday. Boy... Friday night, we prison class folks put on a pot-luck. One of the students in the class volunteered his place--a 60-person co-op up on the hill above campus. Besides us facilitators and our host, two other students showed up. That means I didn't share my wine with a crowd and only ate one bowl of pasta salad. Not too much later, after perhaps the worst couple of games of pool I've ever played (the one ball I sunk belonged to the other team), there I am atop a precarious rooftop with a great view across the bay...

Another co-op resident, whom I dimly recognized from some philosophy class or another, comes out with a friend of his and a wee water pipe. I accept it, they hang out for a minutes and have a couple of the cookies I baked, and then they take off. A couple of minutes later, I notice I have got the shingles in a death grip, and everything feels wrong--what was in that stuff? Afraid I am going to lose my shit and either get dizzy or nauseated on a rooftop, I beat a hasty retreat and walk about 7,000 miles down the hill to the downtown BART. At this point I am convinced that I just unwittingly smoked something very... deluxe. Good thing I only had to ride one stop, because the deceleration into my destination undoes every bit of intestinal fortitude that I have been mustering for the past hour. I paint the tracks on both side of the platform a royal purple, stagger the rest of the way home, and collapse.

I think it was just a case of having had more wine than I'd realized. Don't try this at home, especially not on the roof of your home.

Or maybe the problem is that I recently 'discovered' (that is, allowed myself to try) Minecraft. No more Minecraft until the work for tomorrow is done! Not one little delve, no. And very minimal interaction over the coming month, YOU HEAR ME, ME?

Aaaahhhhhh jeez. Enough. Philosophical Investigations §258 is calling me, and I just can't ignore it any longer.