Seriously, I spending my nocturnal hours dancing around the house half-naked to Ceremonials.

I REGRET NOTHING.

In other news, I have a cold. Never before have I produced this much mucus (to my knowledge). The good news is I battled through it to sing my jury on Tuesday. A jury, for you non-music majors, is a torture device exclusive to fine arts majors in which you are placed in a cathedral and told to fill up the huge space while standing tall, keeping your shoulders down, lifting your soft palette, and fighting the ugly faces singing entails, all the while ten of your favorite professors sit three feet in front of you and make telltale "hmms" and "ohs" in the middle of your performance and you try to stop shaking because it messes up your vibrato and makes the sweat pooling in your sensible heels squish and slosh.

Yummy.

My jury wasn't actually that bad. I was told I got one of the highest scores, and one of my professors described hearing me sing in such a space was as delectable as "bathing in warm gravy".

Th-thank you?

Now I just have to endure the next two weeks and finals and I'm home free for a month!

How goes it with all of you peeps? I know many of you are in the same boat as me (TWO  MORE WEEKS YES BUT FINALS OH GOD NO), but rest easy knowing we shall survive. And if not, we'll start a colony of starving artists that compete with a nest of pigeons over the space under a busy overpass.

AH, THE POWER OF THE ARTS.