Last Monday was the night dedicated to the required monthly Plan II Thesis meeting. It's a new thing they're doing to engender a sense of community among people working on it. It's a pretty cool idea, because all of us have had classes together over the last 3 years and made good friends who we suddenly see in classes no more, because by senior year we're all done with P2 and we're panicking and finishing our majors. And it's a funny experience. It's the same old "It's great to see you!" conversation, and it's the one that ends in "Hey, let's all get together!" and nothing ever gets scheduled. But it's not because we all think it's awkward or don't like each other. It's more like it's because we all know on the inside that trying to schedule together all of us would be harder than writing the whole damn thesis overnight. We're all seniors now. Once again, we've conveniently forgotten the reality of senior year - it goes by in a blur of work and caffeine and society, where the fun stuff ceases to be fun yet the work ceases to be a pain in the ass. And the result is visible: all of us have long hair. I showed up with my scraggly-ass beard and my decently long hair - probably the longest it's been since I tried to grow it out back when I was 15. So did Marc. And others. I just haven't had the time to make it home to get my hair cut. Now that the hair's already this out of control, I may just keep it up. And now it's just before 2am on a Saturday night. A year ago I'd have felt awful for coming home so early, before the parties were really over. Now, I feel OK. I'm comfortable. I've got the Aphex Twin going in one ear and out the other, I'm blogging, and thinking about how I should be getting my act together for a ton more application essays.Senior years don't ever change - we just forget them.