Today I got my English essay back. I received an 'A.' I will agree that this is a good thing, and I would have been dissatisfied with anything less. At the same time, I recognize that this makes me A Horrible Person. Why, you ask? I would have been disappointed had I not received an 'A' when I wrote the majority of the paper a. while having not slept for about 2 days and b. while high or otherwise made insane by the excitement of The Horrors concert. What makes me A Horrible Person is that I expected to get an 'A' on a paper at UC Berkeley when I wrote it under the influence (seeing The Horrors is pretty much the equivalent of tripping). I know that there are probably students who spent a lot of time and effort on their papers and received lower grades, and I feel sort of bad about that. At the same time, I am pretty happy even if it makes me a spoiled, awful person. Perhaps seeing The Horrors gave me temporary superpowers. I am also A Horrible Person because I have been spending too much money. It makes me think of Wordsworth: "getting and spending we lay waste our powers," which then makes me feel like a dork on top of feeling like A Horrible Person. Some of it has been necessary, like a new black coat to replace the one that I killed and a new pair of boots (also killed; ended up wearing them in the rain and getting my feet soaked). I probably could have gone without the second pair of boots, the leather gloves, the tights (I have this disease where I always have to be buying tights with odd patterns), and the cape. The problem is that they are all amazing, and I have a weakness for quirky clothing. The boots are patent leather beatle boots, the leather gloves are elbow-length (I have been meaning to get some like them), and the cape is vintage (60s) and made of black velvet with a black-and-white striped lining. See? I am A Horrible Person. I also plan to spend more money in the near future on tattoos. As of this moment, I plan to get a stylized jellyfish on my forearm and a quote from Hamlet (possibly somewhere on my shoulder). My dorkiness knows no bounds. On a random tangent, I am now definitely going to see Eddie Izzard in January. P.S. I posted something. It must be the apocalypse.