Sputter.

I've done something I really didn't think I'd ever do for this whole year. I've skipped class and work 2 days in a row. NBD, I'm not really that sick, I'm just kindof gross and probably shouldn't be around people in confined classroom- or office-sized spaces. I also think that after roughly 2-odd years of living together, Charlotte and I are completely immune to each other. In fact, I've secretly been coughing all over her belongings and food for the past three days. This is a lie, but we're in such close quarters I'm sure it wouldn't make a difference.

All my dear little friends from Raleigh are either already home or get home tonight and I am super excited to see them. I do, however, dread the trip home, because I have to fly home at the asscrack of dawn on Thanksgiving morning. This is just about the last thing I'd like to be doing in the recovering stages of a phlegmmy cough, as I'm a bit of a germophobe to begin with and really all an airplane is is a goddamn germ capsule in the sky with no escape.

Speaking of flying, I went to Williamsburg a couple weekends ago for the 7g new kid show. It was delightful and quite funny. There also seems to be a lot of 7g incest and 7g fringe incest. Fun for the whole family, I guess. I had mama steve's twice, and I don't know how this happened, but I had Taco Bell and didn't even get the normal exorbitant amount of food I typically order, and couldn't finish it. It was really weird.

School is getting tougher. My classmates feel burned out and cranky and have lost the will to read. I still manage to soldier through the reading because if I didn't, that would sort of defeat the purpose of my being here. I seem to spend a lot more time at work, too. Like more than I'm technically supposed to, but whatever, there's a lot to do and someone has to do it. Except for yesterday and today, of course.

I'm really excited about next semester's classes. I'm taking Subcultures and something about cyberculture crit theory. Both very useful subjects. The third and final class is the ma projects course, which I really know nothing about. I am assured by many, however, that "don't worry about it, it'll work out." Oh, okay.

It now seems that the MA class has divided into three parts: 1-those of us who never had any intention to apply for the phd (this is where I fall), 2-those of us who were pumped for the phd from the get-go and are still gunning for it full steam ahead, and 3-those of us who were pumped for the phd from the get go and gave up because they are burned out or maybe think perf studies isn't exactly what they bargained for or have just run out of steam. You can tell who belongs to what category really easily by their attitude and form of caffeine glued to the hand that isn't clutching a macbook with a dog-eared Foucault volume stacked on top of it.

And now I return to the vicious cycle of reading, sleeping, and guzzling water until the Real Housewives of Atlanta reunion show. That shit is my guilty pleasure. It makes me oddly homesick.