Bah.

I apologize for the incoherencey of this post. I'm tired.

According to the Savannah Mall Walk-In Urgent Care, my ear canal is inflamed. Am I snuggled up in bed with a hot press against the side of my face watching my favorite feel good movies, you may ask? Answer: no. I'm lying tired on the floor of my room and I smell like campfire. Did I get to enjoy an actual campfire and the obvious s'mores that inevitably come with it, you may ask? Answer: no. I smell like scorched wood because that's what I have been doing for the last 9 hours. Scorching wood. I sat at a stool over a large piece of ply wood making a feeble attempt at a creative approach to a self portrait four NINE. HOURS. After burning, burning, burning, [wendy's break] burning, burning, burning, [home depot run] staining, staining, staining, I finally hold up my masterpiece to see that...I hate it. What? I was so excited about this project. This was supposed to be my favorite thing I'd made all quarter. This was supposed to be my favorite thing I'd made all year. All of this work was going to pay off because I was supposed to love it. This was my Sistine Chapel. Well, the Sistine Chapel never looked this lopsided from across the room; It's hard to explain without pictures, but let's just say I wasn't too far from looking like the world's ugliest Jay Leno impersonator. So I sat there and tried to fix the unfixable. How do you un-burn wood. Spoiler alert: you can't.

Oh, well. It's over now. My perscription ear drops have been administered and I've popped a few Advil for good measure.
Am I complaining? Answer: no. It's finals. I expect this. I just wanted to vent. Enter blog. Publish post. Goodnight.