Delicious, warm, flaky biscuits, but without any gravy, unfortunately.

I got my first B ever today, an event whose supposed significance is surpassed only by its actual complete and utter meaninglessness. I guess that means that my tiny inner Asian is dead after all, or just that the forces of apathy have captured him and placed him in an uncomfortably small, toroidal cage. In all honestly, I tried my best in the class, and I don’t really think anyone is going to be too miffed about a B+ in “The Art of the Probable,” a class so ill-defined and cross-curriculum that I had difficulty explaining what it was to others not because they wouldn’t understand, but because I myself didn’t understand.

So now I’m sitting in my room at home, listening to some downtempo lounge electronica in my pajamas, and wondering how much of a blog post I can honestly write about absolutely nothing without feeling genuinely guilty. It’s been nice to be at home after an admittedly difficult semester; I think I’ve put on at least a few pounds in the past few days, something I’ll have to remedy once I head back to campus. Man, this electronica just got really blippity and bloopity all of a sudden. I’d skip the song, but it’s Pandora, and they tell me that every time I skip a song they brutally slaughter an infant of some adorable animal species. Oh, it just changed on its own. Guilty yet? So far so good.