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It's my segue: Hawthorne Heights has to be the creepiest band ever.

I'm working diligently on my paper, but the fact that it was just presented to us that we were going to be speaking in a conference setting with professors and other audience members makes me more than boneshakingly nervous. I mean, can I really say "shit, I don't know" to someone that has endured the process of tenure? Granted, I'm just an undergraduate, but the expectations in the Classics department always seems a little high. I guess it's that whole 2000-years of knowledge thing that drives a colloquial stick up the ass in regards to the loftiness that my colleagues wield.

Maybe that's why I don't have any major-related friends, but it's not going to matter in two weeks, because I'll be GRADUATED! Now I'll just have to petition for my promised $30k a year. Somehow, I don't think the big bosses are going to take me seriously.

This Wednesday I'll only have my Greek final to complete, so there's going to be a lot of drinking. Open invite to the house if I'm not at the Library or something.

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