I am writing another feature story for the campus paper -- this time about getting in shape for Spring Break. I would just like to note the poignant irony of my walking into the fitness center this morning with my dirty hair completely dischelveled, two-days worth of stubble on my face, an old velvet-covered diary from middle school found under my bed that would serve as a make-shift notepad, wearing the same clothes from yesterday and no deodorant to speak of -- and completely unprepared to interview the university's Health and Fitness Supervisor.

Once I meet deadline, perhaps I will have more time to go to this nebulous locale known only as The Gym.