Finals, Spring 2010: Mon night to Tues morning

So, it's been three-some-odd months since my last entry, and campus is no longer snowy. Not in the least. Quite the opposite. As a matter of fact, Sunday's temperatures had a high of 100-degrees. Seriously, Virginia? The second day of May and we get a high of 100-degrees? Ridiculous.

But with spring and warm weather (or hot weather, as the case may be) comes a beautiful campus, because the flowers have bloomed.

The sundial outside Swem, sometime around April 12th-ish

Spring and warm/hot weather also means that everything is covered in a layer of yellow dust (read: pollen) and aggravating everyone's allergies, but that's for another entry.

All the red tulips are gone now, but the white ones are still hanging on. Of course, we students don't get to see this lovely view anymore, because we're never outside Swem. We're in Swem now, because it's finals.

Ah yes, finals.

I myself am in Swem right now, procrastinating on a paper that's due in less than sixteen hours (not that I'm counting or anything). As a consultant of the Writing Resources Center, I choose to do my library holing-up in the WRC, since it's basically empty when we're closed (except for the other consultants who've holed up in here as well), and it's quiet. Also, it's nice to feel as if you have your own space in the library that's just for you. Makes you feel special.

Of course, even though I'm in Swem, which should inspire me to work most diligently, I'm procrastinating. The chosen outlet for procrastination this time has been alphabetizing the magnetic poetry on the filing cabinet. (Really, magnetic poetry [different link], it's lots of fun.)

Alphabetized words (and necessary suffixes) in columns on the left,
bits of poetry on the right

Impressive, I know.

Of course, when going through so many words, you can't not create some poetry -- even if it's in the form of magnets.

My own magnetic poem took this form:

Magnetic poems have no titles, of course.
They are too avant-garde for such conventional conventions.

And Shelly Holder (poet, authoress, and fellow WRC consultant who's been keeping me company tonight) created this magnetic masterpiece:

Shelly paid attention to the aesthetic structure of the poem.

Very modern. I'm sure cummings is proud.

At least Shelly's in a poetry class and therefore can justify this poetic diversion as a potential addition to her portfolio for the class final. Me? I'm just avoiding that theatre history paper. I'd have created a magnetic poem about Pre-Sophoclean Oedipus, except this magnetic lexicon doesn't include "incest," "patricide," or even "incredibly irritating."

O Cruel Deadline! Why dost thou loom o'er me?
I have not the focus to vanquish thee.

Even rhyming couplets would be preferable to lost epics. All idle musings of "What if I had chosen a Classics major instead?" are gone.

I think I'll go make some Zombie Blood Orange Tea to bolster myself against the zombification of this essay. (Thank you, parental units, for the care package that included this awesome tea!)

Oedipus Zombius? That would be SO much better than Oedipus Tyrannus... Instead of killing his father and sleeping with his mom, Oedipus could eat them! Patriphage instead of patricide? Well, I guess it'd still be patricide...

Okay, I'm going now. Really.

Sleep well, non-finals world. See you in a week and a half.