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die welt ist alles was der fall ist

Singing solo for 25 minutes is so much harder than you'd expect it to be. Unless you're Renée Fleming, in which case you must be so toned i could break my finger with a friendly poke in the ribs. Not that I would venture to actually poke Renée Fleming in the ribs. My senior voice recital looms. Also, the choir has concerts this weekend, which means my mind is stuffed full of early Handel, and it turns out Handel made beautiful amounts of no sense at all in the early years of his career.

In other news, one of the roommates' mom bought our apartment a blender. I've had a smoothie for breakfast every day since Sunday, and I've forgotten my cup in the AmLit office on campus every day as well. I'm slowly accumulating plastic travel drinkware, and my editors must think I'm trying to claim all of the deskspace for my own.

In still other news, one of my senior thesis mentors expressed great confidence in my ability to pull this 50-page project off in the coming weeks. This was exhilarating and terrifying, since I've only got 11 pages as of today.