I'm sitting in my apartment in Brooklyn, enjoying the stolen time that I have here each weekend. This is the last Sunday I'll have to pack up my bag and get on the L to the G to the E to the Q46 to the ten minute walk back to campus. I have no desire to go back. No desire to get up tomorrow at 5:30 and teach World War I. No desire to work on my lesson plans and make worksheets. Thank god there is only 4 days left of teaching and a half day of bullshit. I'm at my breaking point and so sick of the routine and of institute that I can hardly stand it. I want to wake up in Brooklyn, in my own bed, and eat the food that I make myself and talk to people that I actually have something in common with. I'm tired of only seeing my friends two days a week and then having to walk out the door on Sunday while they sit on our couch and wave goodbye. Although looking back, it's hard to believe that this time has passed, and that I'm almost done, I'm stretched as far as I can go. I'm ready for the end.