I got more class than most of them, Ran with the best of them, Forgave the less of them and blast with the rest of them. What can I say, Califor-NI-AY

Sunday before finals and my skin is positively tingling from the caffeine. A shortness of breath gives the impression of an elevated heart rate and as I take a look up from this ridiculously pointless paper full of pictures and fluff, the arid stench and weight of the air in this place of academic worship is stifling to say the least. I need sunlight. I need air that blows and dances and feels alive. And I need Dr. Dre. Thinking short-sightedly, strolling out of a library listening to 2001 is one of the more liberating feelings out there. Life takes on a new focus, pining for the sunlight between the shadows. Those pithy responsibilities to your classes and your future melt away with every step and every ounce of warmth stolen from Mother Sun. And in that moment you say to yourself, "Fuck this shit, I'm out."