Students and being a student surrounded by students and some guy’s voice echoing through the hallways. Ethnic accent. Not sure why he’s yelling. Ok, not yelling but being really loud considering what I’m trying to do as I type incredibly fast Not often that I get to type this quickly because the words never really flow this fast on normal days. French in an hour. Where is she? Supposed to meet for some study because I actually know what the hell I’m doing. Trip to Paris, wish I could afford it. Some people have all the luck. Not really in the moment right now. Too busy concentrating on my freezing hands and the way writing like this makes my thoughts zip by like flies on a windshield going down the highway, the way I fly when I’m driving home at night away from classes towards a glass of wine and maybe some TV, but more often homework. Obsession with Spartacus is killing me, and I wish I had watched the Americans last night. Spies and rebels, excitement, blood, sex, Russians and Thracians. Yay history. Still a few pages to go on Mrs. Dalloway, so I think I’ll leave the rest of this exercise to Mrs. Woolf’s capable hands.