This morning I burnt my toast.

I never burn my toast.

This, of course, only means one thing: Midterms.

Not the whole piece. Only the edges. Nothing that a little bit lot a bit of jam couldn't fix. I still ate all of it.

I scraped off most of the black parts, but I still knew that at it's core, the identity of this piece of toast has been forever changed. It will always be a burnt piece of toast in my eyes.

In my sage second year of college wisdom, I have determined that midterms are far worse than finals. Let me prove it to you.

Midterms:
-They creep up on you. They creep up in a "Wow, how is it week five already?" kind of way. And BAM! You look at the list on your door and it's all full of things written in all caps (which, of course, means 'due this week')
-No one really cares that you are stressed at midterms. "Yeah, I'm really overwhelmed with midterms right now" doesn't sound NEAR as bad as "Yeah, I'm really overwhelmed with finals right now." And you guys know, I need pity from people like Peter Pan needs Tinker Bell.
-Once they're done, you still have 5 weeks to go.

Finals:
-You know they're coming. You're almost excited for them to come. A typical conversation about the end of the year sounds like, "Yeah, but then we have this week, and then one more week and then it's finals-- which like doesn't even count." It's sort of as if the finals really don't even matter because, if you were stressed enough the rest of the quarter (read: midterms), then, in theory, you should have a good enough grade to bomb your finals and still be ok. (In theory, of course. I'll never purposely bomb my finals, mom.)
-And finally, it's summer when they're done. So, of course that is an amazing plus and really all you need to know.

Editor's Note: This is such a disjointed blog post.

Julia's Note to the Editor (who is also Julia): Please. All of your blog posts are disjointed. It's your schtick.

Disregard all that I have just written. I stayed up until 3:30 last night doing midterms projects. And yes. I am aware that I recently posted about my optional weekend getaway to Haig Point. Maybe it was a poor choice in time management. But guess what: YOLO, biotches. So quit it with the judgy eyes. I'm tired. I have 10 minutes to get ready for class before I have to leave. Can I hear a what what!? I'm wearing sweats to class.

Ok, now make that 9 minutes.

Fun fact:

I listened to this song maybe close to 15 times in the last 12 hours. What?