Closing Up Shop and Fever Dreams

No... not the blog.

In the past week, I finished up the last of my academic work for the semester and closed up the residence hall. The master's degree is currently 1/3 in my hand, provided I did the following:

-passed the multiple choice Legal Aspects final, wherein one of the potential answers was "burn down a sex offender's house". This was not the answer I chose. I think that maybe I did alright on that one.

-did acceptably (read: D or better) on my Organization and Administration final. The final was a 20 page take home exam, worth 40% of the grade. I don't think that you really get grades lower than a B on anything in this program, and the paper was pretty solid for something written while having fever dreams. I'm wagering on a 93.

While all this was happening, I was pretty sure my body was planning on closing up shop. I started coming down with a cold while out Christmas shopping with K., and only deteriorated from there. That night, I had an intense fever: the kind that leaves you shivering and sweating, and then begins inserting images from your dark unconscious into your half away fever shaking mind. Actually, it was more of a narrative. A ridiculous narrative, detailed below.

Basically, around 3pm, I decided that there was a fever in my body because Dick Cheney was using me as a vessel to hold the Constitution, but it was really more like a dark constitution bomb of some sort. I'm not sure on the details, as this was likely a fever dream. So, the reason I was feeling so terrible is because I was a vessel for this god knows what bent on destroying the inauguration. That was his evil plan, after all. Along the way, I met with Janet Neapolitano and Mary McDonald (the President from Battlestar Gallactica), who told me that, in this position, I was the most important person in the Universe... and I believed her. I seriously believed her. Tammi Duckworth agreed with me, because she was in my dream. Yes, the 2006 Democratic candidate for Congress in the 6th district of Illinois. Any plan to get up and get water was of dire consequence. There was a desert in my mind and my mouth, and decisions about getting a cold compress involved the consult of my makeshift cabinet of sometimes fictional advisers. At some point, I decided that I had to soldier through it, and defeat the sickness myself as part of my civic duty.

Yes, these are my fever dreams. The National Security Counsel, Battlestar Gallactica, and CNN's former sweethearts. There's a lot going on in my noggin.

So that lasted for a week, but I'm doing much better now. I've only got a little bit of the death rattle of a cough left, and after one night of profuse sweating (and a dream about Mr. Consorte from highschool), the fever broke. So now I'm milking what little bit I can to get off from the worse duties at work (read: there's nothing to do there anyway. Hello Perez).

Basically, this post only exists because I wanted to write about my fever dream experience. Its right up there with the time that I drunkenly e-mailed Hillary Clinton.


(as an aside, I would like to offer this counterpoint to my personality: my fever dreams involve political deception and high rolling figures... sort of... but my current musical obsessions are Miley Cyrus and Paramore. Yep...)