Like A Boss

I feel like I have my own private office. I'm in the library at 2:18 a.m. and almost no one is here, so I'm at the very very end In one of these cubicle-things that has a door and everything that's usually used for groups. I have my music playing, and everything just sprawled out on the table. I'm using the chairs like a lounger and all that as well. Yeah, I could get used to this. Anyway... can't get to sleep, and I have work at 8 a.m. tomorrow, so I'll probably stay here til like 4 a.m. max. I'm also trying to be constructive an write poetry, or try to get through a bit of literary theory or a Dawkin's book I brought with me. I think I'm in a writing rut. I'm writing about the same thing basically. It manifests itself in different ways, with slightly different tones, but they're practically about the same thing. I think I might consolidate these into one ginormous poem, but I don't know if that will defeat the purpose of what they actually represent or not. Hm... So... yeah... just wanted to report in a bit since I'm just kinda fiddling the night away.