AUGH.

Twenty minutes before my fail-this-and-you-don't-graduate comprehensive exam, and the last thing I have to review (and the one thing I totally forgot about until just turning to it in my notes) is Song of Myself.

And so life comes full circle, and I once again must say:

WALT WHITMAN, I HATE YOU WITH THE BURNING FIRE OF A THOUSAND SUNS. YOU FUCKER.

-flees to comps-