Close to done

Inspiration (or desperation--I can never really tell the difference) hit around 8pm on Thursday. The realisation that I had at least 1500 words left to write, and no citations kicked my mind into focus mode. Sadly, it meant missing out on a house party, but it was worth once my mind actually kicked into focus. Up until 1:30, and then back at it at 8:30am the next day, I finished my final essay around 10:30 and trotted off to school to hand it in. Damn, it felt good.

I can't say it was the most exciting paper I've ever written, but how thrilling can cost-benefit analysis, be anyway. I originally had some awesome ideas for telling the story, but it seemed that a cost-benefit analysis of prostitution probably wouldn't fly with the lecturers. Then again, maybe it would have gotten me a better grade. Oh well.

So, after catching up on Modern Family and 30 Rock, I met a friend for a pint, which ended up turning into going to the international store for a full-on middle eastern dinner, with a little TV on the side. Hummous in a can is scary stuff.

Feeling listless later on in the night, I went to Fruity at the University with a few people. First, Fruity, despite what it would sound like, is not some multi-colored gay bar with skittles vodka shots. Our student union in addition to a traditional-style pub, has a bar and three clubs. For Fruity, they open up the clubs and have a different style of music in each one. Since they're clubs, they naturally all have one-word names--Stylus, Pulse, and Mine. Side note: I'd really love to see a club with a descriptive name sometime, like Jack's Den of Debauchery or STDs Free With Every Shot. Walking in, I felt older than dirt given the overwhelming number of freshers milling about. Luckily, some guy with grey hair missing a few teeth was standing close to me at the bar, at which point I felt better about myself again. Either way, it's still weird to now go to hear 90s music as quasi-retro. 90s music as faux-ironic I get, but the fact that I can remember hearing some of the music on the radio makes the cobwebs start to creep out. Obviously, I'm 26, so it's not as if I'm headed for retirement village anytime soon, but it does put a bit of perspective on the situation. Still, I had a good time, though I don't think I'll be heading back to Fruity any time soon. It was good for a laugh.

Now, off to go gum down some food, watch a history program on BBC and fall asleep at 7pm.