Rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated.

I am not dead. I am not dead. Mono and the slacking I did earlier in the quarter have lately united into a force to be reckoned with, taking me out of the game and nearly taking me out period. For a couple of minutes there, I felt a bit like I was fumbling around trying to open the Autobot Matrix of Leadership, only to realize that the animators hadn't bothered drawing in the finger holes I needed to unleash its awesome power. But last Friday, triumphant music music started to play, and with the aid of some bedrest and some 'roids, I feel like a new man. A man who sleeps a lot. A man who tires easily. A man with a slightly-bigger-than-normal spleen. Still, I've been operating at approximately 70% capability for almost a week now, and I'm hopeful that the worst is over.


In re Star Wars-

I don't care about you anymore. You were sort of nice for a while, but you've run your course and I'm pretty sure my life won't be any different without you. Episode III is over, and the only feeling I can confess to at this point is boredom. Is Pete right? Was Star Wars always void of any significant content? I can say this for certain: I am no longer interested in this question in the least. I am also at liberty to let you in on the fact that this was, to me, the funniest moment in a movie that was on the whole much funnier than it probably ought to have been:

Portman: "Something wonderful has happened!"
Christensen: "......" [stony silence]

The long and the short of it is that Star Wars is finally over and I somehow feel like I've been paroled.