Why I don't plan parties

My brain is about to explode. If you hear something that vaguely sounds like a potato exploding in the microwave, well, then, that means my brains are all over the walls, and there is no longer any hope for me.

I believe this is the semester that will kill me, and instead of calmly reciting all that I've taken on, I am going to sit here and feel my brain deaden, just a little bit more, in preparation for combustion.

All I can really count on, these days, is that I might get all my reading done, or I might get compliments on how pretty I look (thank you, you person at church you, who manages to make a comment that I think is supposed to sound like a compliment sound instead like a painful insult), or I just might end up with something in my teeth that no one bothers to tell me about.

I meant to write an explanation of why I don't plan parties, but I can't think too much right now. That will be coming up next, along with an explanation about the return of my computer, a detailed description of my rock climbing experience, and perhaps a piece mocking several of my professors.