Noice presents the first installment of its “Diary of A…” series.

12:45 a.m. – I think I have had at least twelve cups of coffee and successfully checked my Facebook more than I have showered this week in the span of an hour. I had to move out of the café because there was this study group there talking about how they found Zimbabwean money in their pockets this morning and then all I could think about was Zimbabwe and realized that, that had nothing to do with a paper on Virginia Woolfe. So, now I’m sneaking this cup of coffee upstairs.

1:17 a.m. – Oh my God, I swear the chairs on the third floor are laced with Ambien. I immediately nod off when I sit down in them. This is not going to work. Coffee I.V. anyone? Invent that. This is Harvard damn it. It’s times like these where I can’t decide if I should just go watch eight hours straight of A&E’s Intervention to feel better about my life in that I’m not snorting cocaine off of an elephant’s tusk or simply get into the zone and do some actual work. There is a kid across from me right now with a blanket and pillow. He’s in here for the long haul. I think I see food in his bag. Real breakfast of champions right there.

1:35 a.m. – Some girl walking up the stairs just acquainted her face with the floor. Perhaps she should invest in a backpack. Or a Lamont sleepover bag like that guy over there. I think I’m going to start a Lamont support group. For people that come here and they don’t really know why they’re here, but they can still introduce themselves and say hello, my name is —– and I have a problem. And its name is Lamont.

2:32 a.m. – Roommate just texted me to make sure I was still alive. Considering faking a hostage scenario to freak her out.

2:45 a.m. – That was unsuccessful. She asked if HUPD needed to get involved. What happened to irony?

3:01 a.m. – www.lamebook.com is my number one feeling right now.

3:15 a.m. – Okay. So I’m on page five. That’s good. I think I want to drop out. Be a vagabond. A barista. That’s so much coffee. I’m dropping out, it’s official. I’m going to work at Starbucks…or pull an “Into the Wild” and live in a makeshift trailer/bus but not die because I know what kinds of berries to put into my mouth—a.k.a. not the fatal kind.

4:21 a.m. – Paper finished. If this paper were a person their IQ would be astoundingly low. I would not date them. They would take me to Applebee’s and think that was a good idea for a first date and then tell me about how they accidentally got married at 17. How did I get in to this school? Also, I just left a video on my friend’s Facebook wall in “mime,” because that is a language…and I’m trapped in a glass case of emotion.

4:35 a.m. – I’m leaving now. That kid is still here and he is on a mission. He just busted out a Power Bar. There is something going down on that computer. I would date his paper.

4:45 a.m. – Back in the dorm…why can I not stop watching Failblog. I need professional help. I need it now. I also need coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Or to be published on “Texts from Last Night.” Priorities. I haz them.