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Freedom and Macaroni



As of last night, I am done with this semester. I've written roughly 70 pages of cited, academic papers over the course of the last week, and my brain is fried.

I was in the student union, working on a five-hour study session for a final exam - four textbooks spread out across the table along with seven different bundles of stapled paper, me in the middle, flipping madly between them, pausing only to write something down. I finally finish up, close the books, and lean back, taking a deep breath. This guy from my philosophy class who I've only talked to once or twice happened to be sitting nearby. He looks over at me and says "...Ping-pong break?" I say "Hell yes", and we proceed to the ping-pong table.

Now, neither of us is a pro at table tennis, but we've both got advantages - I'm a juggler, so I'm really good at judging where an object is going to land based on the top two inches or so of its arc, and he's roughly seven feet tall, so he can reach anything without taking a step. 'Twas an epic match, indeed - since we were both at the same skill level, we were able to keep going for long periods of time from each serve. Other people put down their books to watch. He stood there, never having to move his feet, hitting everything that I sent at him, while I kept moving, jumping to exactly the right spot to hit it back. In the end, I won, but just barely. And then I went on to take an exam in Modern World Lit, which wasn't nearly as competitive (it pretty much just sat there and let me write all over it).

Also, as I was typing this, Jest (the roommate) walked by and handed me a macaroni necklace, saying "I made this for you today." That's a lie, because I was with him all day and there were no strings or noodles anywhere near us, but I put it on anyway. So now I'm free from school and rockin' the noodles.

Currently Listening: "As Free As The Rent We Don't Pay" by Johnny Hobo and the Freight Trains


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