There are many things I would like to say to you but I don't know how...

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the Royal Flag of Scotland, often used as the second flag. Kinda cool, non? What's better? My family's crest (I have no pictures of it, sorry) shows the same rampant lion (a yellow lion on a field of blue with 3 yellow roses and a crescent moon). Where's that come from, you ask? Descended from Mary, Queen of the Scots.

On my mom's side I come from French nobility, eastern European peasants and a Civil War general (from the South, of course).

That's right, my ancestry owns yours. Why? 'Cus my relatives had their heads chopped off and was at least partially at fault for the loss of the Civil War. Damn, I'm awesome.

School's winding down nicely, I suppose. I have approximately 1.5 pages to sum up 3 separate points in the Burundian genocide (for Anthropology, of course) and that's not going to be pretty but I can do it. I think. Maybe...

My Policing in America paper turned out to be the exact manifestations of my worst fears. The case study is a completely normal town in Southern California (proportionate racial divsions between Caucasians, African Americans and Hispanics), 2.o officers/1000 citizens. 15 pages on reforms to make to improve the division. This is going to be hell.

Got out of writing my History/Philosophy of Criminology paper, so this week isn't going to be as ghastly as I thought.

In conclusion...bitch, you don't know.