Below, an oddly prescient student blogger recounts finals week.
2:09 p.m., 12/13/2004
Mood: Pooped and peeved
Listening to: The voices in my head

what compels my fellow Brandeisians to share with the world - through their Instant Messenger profiles - every exam, paper and presentation due before returning home? it's like some academic pissing-contest, where pity is the only prize. your professors aren't reading this, and i couldn't care less.

5 a.m., 12/14/2004
Mood: %$^@!%
Listening to: Smiths, "Please, please, please let me get what I want" on repeat


Last person who I...
telephoned: God. no answer.
went on a date with: lab TA.
hugged: lab TA
kissed: lab TA
had sex with: lab TA
hit: lab TA (after refusing to agree with "the plan")
lied to: lab TA (the lie: my grandfather is Carl Shapiro, so keep your mouth shut.)
gave a gift to: lab TA (act of contrition)
text messaged: brother, in third year at Cardozo.

12:04 a.m., 12/19/2004
Mood: Misery punctuated by a feeling of impending doom.
Listening to: "God Save The Queen"

as the night wears on, the degree to which i do not <3 finals is becoming more clear. my treatise on the conestoga wagon rambles on. and a good-natured freshman just barged into the Shapiro library, shouting, "Hey guys, leave your books for a minute and check out the Midnight Buffet." but the prissy pre-med sitting beside me didn't seem too interested.

"We're trying to study," he snapped in that i-would-dissect-you-if-i-could-find-the-time kind of way. geez, what will this place look like by tomorrow?

5 a.m., 12/20/2004
Mood: Smiling like a mental patient, and I don't really know why.
Listening to: Elvis Costello's rendition of "Gloomy Sunday" - that Hungarian Suicide Song

145 pounds (beef jerky and caffeine). cigarettes: first one ever (then shared two packs of Marlboro Reds with econ study group). alcohol units: 0 (definitely forgot what beer tastes like).

i came home to find my roommate cursing at his arabic book like a longshoreman with Tourettes. also found English major without any finals ddling around the hall in tar and feathers. the end is near.