The numbers dance fuzzily in my brain. Plus this, minus that, times everything, square both sides, and f of x equals whatever. I stare up at the clock as the numbers take a second to come into focus, and begin another calculation: How many hours of sleep will I get tonight? Not enough. I close the book and pile the notebooks, pencils, calculator and whatever other paraphernalia is keeping me from sleeping on my bed, onto the desk. Class early tomorrow morning. What was I thinking when I picked the 8 o’clock slot? Correction: why wasn’t I thinking when I picked the 8 o’clock slot? I brush my teeth and curl up in bed, my mind obsessively compiling everything I have to do. Plan research paper, write an essay, read what some dead guy wrote, do math…no, wait, I did that. But even though I accomplish so much there’s always more to learn. I fall asleep meaninglessly pondering the significance of Sherlock Holmes in Victorian England. I am a college student; this is my dream.