Well, having finally viewed Brigit Jones: The Edge of Reason, I've come to this conclusion [it has to be read in a British accent, though]:

It's a really sucky state of events when you're missing someone you desperately care for, but have sincere doubts that they're missing or even thinking about you.

All right. Angsty moment over. Read about amusing boarding-schoolish escapades below. [They involve duct tape and curfews -- a good read, I promise, lol.]

*Less than five minutes later* All right, why the hell do I have a contemporary hymn stuck in my head?!! Although it feels odd asking "why the hell" about a hymn, but....

*And five seconds after that* So we had a "dessert pizza contest," and our group decided to create a rendition of dear Vincent's Starry Night [you know you're a humanities student WHEN....]. In the end we had to call it Starry Night On LSD. And find a creative, humanities-ish way to present it. We had a rap, a public service announcement, and a poem. I was in charge of the latter. I had ten minutes, a pen, and a pile of napkins, so apologies, it is rough. But it amuses me, so it gets posted here.

*Clears throat*

Vincent Van Gogh, with his brush,
Left his paints for stranger stuff
Swirl of chocolate, dab of cream,
He was on LSD, it seems.
This artefact, dug up in France,
Serves as proof of trippin' trance.
It may be tasty, it may be cool,
But our Impressionist, he was a fool,
And this shows why, instead of drugs,
You all instead should turn to hugs.

Buahahaha. We owned. And managed not to get whip-creamed by another group. Go us!

I will not break curfew tonight and get locked out. If you need an explanation, I trust the post below will suffice. :P