Better By Nightfall

Dear Death List Five,

I recently completed the second piece of you on my journey to KILL FINALS. It's been an interesting journey too. My first opponent was your wicked lessons in math, but I survived unscathed and defeated your ways. Your army of integrals and anti-derivatives attacked with great force, but alas, died in battle. It was not an easy battle, but through the help of my honorable master (a burned copy of the answers, BOTH even and odd), I took you down considerably fast. With no more lessons to take down, I moved on to my next topic of interest: The Japanese Culture Paper of DOOM!

It appeared innocent at first, until the research ensued and tried to consume me whole. Pages upon pages were read, numerous hours were spent on the computer, day after day at my desk for you--until tonight. You've met your end. With the closing paragraph and conclusion reached, you fell lifeless out of the printer into my hands. You'll soon be turned into the proper authorities, and I will receive a handsome reward for your demise.

Yet, I still have three tasks to accomplish--the last being to KILL FINALS. The Japanese Language Paper of Doom looms in the shadows, likely to be the next to fall. With it's confusing jargon, it will be a most admirable opponent that will pass quickly. Next, the TA paper will show itself only to be torn apart. And then I will exact my revenge on the one thing I've been working toward this whole semester: to KILL FINALS!

Thank God, once again, for Starbucks! I'm alive and well today thanks to my iced grande toffee nut latte.

Whew! Off to Calculus!

I'm not feeling suicidal, just in case the title of this post happened to scare you. But then, why would it? I'm not Japanese. Haha!

Actually, I'm quite tired from writing and almost finish my paper on Suicide in Japan for Culture class. It has turned out to be much longer than I originally thought it would be, but I think it's good. I'm going to have Lacey read over what I have done tomorrow. Hopefully I'll only have to add a little more on the implications of the increasing rate of suicide in Japan and then finish with a conclusion. That's what it looks like to me, pending Lacey's edits. (God, I hope they're aren't too many of them!)

As for me, well, I'm finally off to bed for the night. Check you later, Internet!

Jeez Veneliza! You didn't tell me that Fullmetal Alchemist would be so addicting! Oh, wait, wait. Actually, yeah, you did! =D

I've been looking around the apartment lately, watching the all colors fade to the taupe walls that were here from the beginning. (Perhaps the Jungian in me sees signs in all of this, but I dare not over-analyze it.) With each piece of color slowly stripped away, the old layer is revealed. There are holes that remain in corners where sheets of color stood, penetrating the old layer. And it's starting to look empty, starting to feel empty. Rooms that were full are becoming hallow. The hallowest of rooms is where we spend the least time now. The room that connects the apartment together is as empty as its existence. Things are starting to echo, lightly. Soon to increase in volume with each passing day.

I've found myself spending more time in my room, the only place that seems to thrive with color. It will be one of the last rooms to return to taupe. And when it does, it will be fast. All of it will disappear in one whole day instead of the progression most have done. The walls will be cleaned. The holes will be covered with oatmeal soap to hide the intrusions, but I'll know that they're still there and where they are. And I'll close this door one last time when the final bits of color are finally stored away, dragging my bags and my goodbyes.

I'll take one last glance at the place I called home for a year, just as I do every time I move. The shell of taupe. The walls, empty. The doors, locked. The keys, turned in. Walking away. The last goodbye.