No shaving ’till after finals.

It’s more than a credo, it’s practical. When people see my scraggly half-ass neck beard, bleary red eyes, and the sweatshirt that I clearly haven’t taken off for a week (After 2am, I just call it a blanket), they don’t screw around. They know I have things to do, and lack both the time and the patience to be harassed by extra-curricular activities such as paying bills and showering.

It’s also a clear signal to my friends who are done with finals and/or graduating: NO, I cannot go to Spike’s with you, and if you ask again, come Saturday you won’t be walking across that stage, you’ll be rolling, Holmes.

All right, there’s more to say, but my sister reminds me it’s time to get back to paper writing, so happy finals everyone!

*The title is a common misinterpretation of a popular Jimmy Hendrix song. Name that song for a chance to appear in the comments section of this very blog!