The Christmas Song

So everyone knows "The Christmas Song" goes like this:

And so, I'm offering this simple phrase
To kids from one to ninety-two
Although its been said
Many times, many ways
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas to.. You!

This morning, while listening to this song in the shower, I decided that if I ever turn ninety-three, I'm going to be very sad throughout that Christmas season. I guess that's the day that I'll finally become a man.

My throat is raw and my head is heavy. It's Finals Week here at the Honors College--my last Fall semester ends next week. I don't want to be sick for Finals, especially as this would be the third (maybe fourth) time I've been sick this semester, which would be a record for the Honors College. I don't know. When I was a freshman, I was sick all the time. Exposure to so many people in an enclosed residence hall all at once, I guess.

I should be writing my thesis right now. I don't want to work on it. I'd like to think that if my thesis was a project that I'd come up with entirely on my own, then I would indeed want to work on it. I don't know how true that notion is, but I'm sure that my idea of mapping Dante's Inferno and studying the environmental aspects of that piece would be far more interesting than analyzing The Executioner's Song as a nonfiction novel.

A police officer called me this morning to ask me for an interview. Apparently I'm a witness of some kind. Another reason not to "thesis" right now ("thesis" is a verb at the HC--which is actually quite neat).

I'm gonna go smoke some crack.