Three Things

Finals are over. I survived. Out of all my semesters though, this finals period wasn't all that bad. The only real challenge was french, but i was so happy to be done with it forever that whatever grade I got on the final won't be bad because I'll know I won't have to take French next semester. Yesterday was my last typography class and we went to this huge printing factory and had a tour. Everything's so technical and they had a bunch of machines that could chop your hand off or your hair could get stuck in so I didn't want to touch anything. We went also to get the book we've been working on designing for the last few weeks cut. They stuck in this machine with a massive knife and it chopped through the book in less than a second. My book looks so cool and professional! I won't have it back for a few weeks, but I'll post a picture on here when I do. I think when I get it back I'm going to take it to Barnes and Noble, stick it on the shelf with all the other books and take a picture.

I'm heading home today and I'm so in need of this break! I'm going to sit around for the first few days and watch lots of Law and Orde SVU, dozens of movies, knit scarves and work on design. Oh and catch up on reading. Right now I'm reading Notes from A Small Island by Bill Bryson, which I'm sure I've talked about before, but it's about this guy who travels around England and writes about his adventures. The whole book is funny, but there's an exerpt from a part I just read the other day that I especially like.

"The way I see it, there are three reasons never to be unhappy. First, you were born. This in itself is a remarkable achievement. Did you know that each time your father ejaculated (and frankly he did it quite a lot) he produced roughly 25 million spermatozoa--enough to repopulate Britain every two days or so? For you to have been born, not only did you have to be among the few batches of sperm that had even a theoretical chance of prsperomg--in itself quite a long shot--but you then had to win a race against 24,999,999 or so other wriggling contenders. Being born was easily the most remarkable achievement of your whole life. And think: You could have just as easily been a flatworm.

Second, you are alive. For the tiniest moment in the span of eternity you have the miraculous privilege to exist. For endless aeons you did not. Soon you will cease to be once more. That you are able to sit here right now in this one never-to-be-repeated moment, reading this book, eating bonbons, dreaming about hot sex with that scrumptious person from accounts, speculatively sniffing your armpits, doing whatever you are doing--just existing--is really wondrous beyound belief.

Thirst, you have plenty to eat, you live in a time of peace, and "Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree" will never be number one again. If you bear these things in mind, you will never be truly unhappy--though in fairness I must point out that if you find yourself alone in West-super-Mare on a rainy Tuesday evening, you may come close"

good luck to everyone who isn't done with finals yet. I feel your pain