Done! Donedonedonedonedone! I'm done! Yeah, semester, how do you like that! I finished your ass! Man alive, though, these last five weeks or so have killed me. It was all fun and games; me and the semester, running through fields of daisies and squirrels, cavorting and singing jolly songs about happiness and bliss. We held hands, and made those little crowns out of those little white flowers that you think are really pretty when you're a kid but then find out are actually just weeds later on. We were tight, me and the semester. Then, November dawned. A cruel, cold month. Suddenly, the semester wasn't returning my calls, it was always nagging me to do things ("Write this paper, Shannon." "Shoot this scene, Shannon." "Go to work, Shannon."), and seriously, y'all, the thrill was gone.

But now, I have finally told the semester what the what was. I threw it to the ground and kicked it while it was down. Then I did a little dance. I went home and spent hours cutting out tiny, individual pieces of confetti, then threw it into the air with great gusto. I opened up a bottle of champagne and took a shower with it. In short, today is a grand, grand day filled with joy and wonderful, fuzzy contentment. Not only that, my hair looks great. My happiness is made flesh!

Tomorrow, I depart for home, the wonderful place where I don't have to do my own laundry and other people cook for me. Yay. I plan to watch movies, read books, work on my scripts, and just generally be made content. It is good.