Remember when...

For old times sake Scurvy and I spent an evening at The Dude. Seriously, we're talking about going back at least 3 years. We were like the over-achiever froshies, passing our Friday's and Saturday's at The Dude until the wee hours of the morning. Heck, we practically lived there. Of course, that was when I was taking math classes, but whatever.

There was that one time that I made Scurvy give some guy my phone number because he looked like Harry Potter and I had the hots for Harry Potter. Or the one time we ordered a pizza, for delivery...to the library. The countless hours pounding through algebraic equations and thingy-majiggies-I-can't-remember-their-names-matrices. Torture. Like getting your wisdom teeth pulled, except worse because it extends over 15 weeks.

This evening at The Dude felt like a good way to close out what culminated to be a day of filled with academia. I've had the deer in the headlights syndrome since 5pm this evening. I've had a brain surge of PhD goodness. Fuck, am I really going to get a PhD? I was actually just aiming for a Masters, but hell, why do a Masters when you could do a PhD? It's totally American-- why take less when you could take more? I can supersize my mind.

Ok, actually, I never really thought that doing a PhD would be something I would be able to do but after this AP-gives-you-lots-of-free-food-and-things-seminar I'm starting to think that perhaps it's not such a bad idea if I can muck through the politics of departmental socializing. Um, I mean, if I don't fail French class which would consequently ruin my GPA which would therefore lessen my chances of into getting into a good program. Right.

Or, actually, maybe I'll just move to Africa.