The fifth of May. If I were at home tonight (or last night, possibly) then I would be joining with friends, and getting hammered. That is a fact. But I'm not dismayed, nor disappointed, nor downcast, nor downtrodden in spirit, because in eleven more days I'll be flying home. I can hardly wait.

But wait I shall, because wait I must. It's so close that my spirits are beginning to rise to that place where they will overflow upon my joyous return to the best state in the world. And even though I'm leaving behind people and places that I've become accustomed to, and surrondings that I've grown morbidlly attached to, I'll smile uncontrolably, because I know that where I'm headed there is Corona, Billy Joel music, and a plethora of friends and family.