Head, Meet Desk.

I must do six things by 9 am tomorrow morning.

Write a six-page paper on Andre Rublev, and the reflections of sainthood in Russian iconography. Which sounds sexy as hell, but ohgod I put it off until the last minute like an idiot--

Write a five-page paper on, wait for it, Miley fucking Cyrus. More specifically, Miley fucking Cyrus' infamous Annie Lebowitz photoshoot. Granted, I'm supposed to be analyzing the thing for feminism and gender fail, but still. Miley fucking Cyrus.

Write a three-page paper on my colonialism/Apocalypse Now OTP.

Send in my $100 deposit for Cambridge. It's totally probably happening oh my god oh my god!

Stop listening to The Hazards of Love, because it is raining outside and I am stressed and it's depressing enough without songs about fathers murdering their children.

Share this wicked book with you guys.

Tell me you wouldn't want to read this. Go on. Oh, by the by, it's officially the oldest book I have ever touched. 1837, baby.