Today I hid out in the SA cafe when I was supposed to be in English class, because I had a 10 page paper due that I hadn't finished (or started for that matter). Juvenile, I know (funnily, I just mistyped that as Juvinline, which I think sounds like a name from the Bible -- random to point that out, I know, but there you are). I probably would have gone to class anyway, except that I also discovered this morning that I left my copy of Seamus Heaney's version of Antigone, which we're supposed to be reading in class, at my mom's house. And I refused to face the class with no paper and no book since I was too lazy even to think up a good story. (I did, however, have a story for why I didn't go to class; my plan was to say I thought I lost my car keys and I had to go looking for them all over campus and by the time I miraculously found them in the computer lab I didn't want to interrupt the class by walking in late.) I did work on the paper though for some of the time that I was in the cafe, which almost makes up for missing class. Except that the paper is actually a form of revenge against someone I hate with every fiber of my being, so ... no matter which way you look at it, I was being extremely juvenile. And the most juvenile part of all this is that I don't give a damn. Yay for me.