I wish to be a sponge.

My neck is sore. Back aching. Hands shaking. Legs numb.

After that description of my body's current state, you would have thought I just carried a large camel across the Arizona desert. 

Hardly. I just spent nine hours making note cards for finals. Although the physical challenges do not match up, the mental ones do. For the past nine hours, my best friend has been a 005 Micron pen- you've got to minimize the pen point to maximize the facts you can cram on those 3x5's. 

I may be bitter that my roommates are off with their boyfriends, checking out the local art scene at First Friday and such, and I am stuck in our over-priced, poorly lit, humble abode with my nose in books. However, at the same time I feel accomplished. One more semester down. 

As I walk the pathways of ASU I either see disgruntled or peaceful faces. I imagine the distain is only with themselves, seeing that nights filled with keggers and bad pickup lines do not raise your GPA. I imagine the etherial smiles are from hard nights of studying, similar to the day I just had. 

If only the mass population of this institution of higher education could see the happiness that can be brought after passing a test. There would no longer be the 5th or 6th year senior, or the line, "Well I'm supposed to be a junior, but I'm still at the 100 level." Of course everyone goes that their own pace, but why not pick up that pace? 

I wonder what happened to the days of ambition. Walk into a Harvard classroom and the environment is 180 degrees different. People want to not only know what the teacher knows, but what you know, what your dad knows, what the person next to you knows, and so on. They are intellectual sponges fighting to get ahead. I wish to be a sponge.

(My actual 3x5 with four astronomy chapters crammed onto it)