With your pen and notebook you've blown me away // It's the smallest words we cannot say

I walked up the hill like a warrior approaching battle. My pencil and 8 x 12 notecard holstered in my breast pocket, I marched into combat with my Accounting final exam. I had to laugh at the drama in that very mindset I was trying to carry, complete with 'Art is Hard' by Cursive (a terrific song, the cello is just mean) blaring through my headphones. It couldn't have been a more calm, sunny day outside really. I'm not sure it could've been more anti-climactic.

Almost 3 hours of pure testing delight. (S I G H) How I love me some bank reconciliations.

I wasn't as prepared for it as I should've been. Physically (I really need to go out running again, the famed "150 lbs. of solid steel and sex appeal" is starting to sag a wee bit) or academically. Or emotionally. That happens I suppose when a certain female of the species steals me from the pages of the text and lift me slightly off of my feet for 90 min. Of all the things I could say about her, I'm not sure I can say that she is someone who necessarily enhances my academic affairs. But I wouldn't trade those minutes away for anything.