In case you had a vastly deprived childhood, the above is a reference to the o so wonderful Harold and the Purple Crayon. I happen to be in the Harold B Lee library and am wearing a purple sweater. I thought it was pretty clever...
So here I am. Friday night at the library. There's fifteen minutes till the music turns on and I simply can't read another article on euthanasia My clock makes sounds like someone is walking down a hall. For the first hour I was here it kept physicking me out. I bet all the people around me were getting a little worried that I was paranoind what with all the looking up and all around I did. Pobrecitos.
I think I've spent more time in the library than I ever had in my whole college career and I always have to stay until the music starts playing. I find it really hard not to judge the people who leave five minutes before the music comes one. I mean, you've stayed here for so long anyways. Am I the only one who has an overwhelming curiosity to see if they will yet again play Mrs. Robinson? What's wrong with you people!
In other words, I missed both 11:11 11-11-11. I fail at life.
Well time to go!
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