Electronic D NY Naomi Ambrose Staff Writer Hey USB, hey USB You store our data so lovingly Hey USB, hey USB You store our data so lovingly But now your love has gone away When you get corrupted, our data fades away Hey SD card, hey USB You lose our data so suddenly For what are we supposed to do When we do not get what we need from you Hey SD card, hey USB Can you restore our data indefinitely? Corruptions Late niaht Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Li Late night Caroline Ho Assistant Editor Ten. Just ten more pages to be read Then, you say, I'll go to bed, Or just read one more chapter, first, instead. Eleven. Out of fifteen on that last test You left 4c) blank, you should’ve guessed Tormented by your marks, you cannot rest. Twelve. Recall that phase, that tween life stage That awkwardness and hormonal rage Oh brain, why must you now relive that age? Two. Couples, romance, who needs that stuff? Single, alone, you're happy enough ...In truth, you wish you had someone to love. Three. Why did you eat three whole cupcakes? You know that this much sugar makes You toss and turn all night and stay awake. Four. Four things on your last to-do list; You checked off three, but now you're pissed What was that one last thing you know you missed? Six thirty. The cost of coffee yesterday Your budget’s tight, why did you pay That much for just one non-fat soy latte? Seven. Too late, the night is gone, you fool Time to get up and prep for school At least sleep deprivation’s hip and cool. (though I sure can blame it). wi CO peu r COITUpTIONS Electronic The struggle for my sleepy attention 10ns pt ronic Corru Elect The struggle for my sleepy attention Corruptions Electronic Corruptions Electronic Roshni Riar Staff Writer 10ns Corrupt Electronic Corruptions There’s something oddly defiant about falling asleep on the couch with your ready and eager bed in plain sight. It’s like sneaking out to see a forbidden friend, their eyebrow piercing and green streak of hair too offensive and rebellious for Mom to stomach. You don't know why, but you keep going out to see them. There’s nothing in it for you, unless you're counting the cramp in your thighs from contorting your legs to tuck in where they shouldn't. A reckless thrill unfurls in your chest as you sink into the cushions, television chatter turning to white noise, lulling you into a dreamless crash. You wake up in three hours, the lights still on and your stiff unbuttoned jeans screaming to be taken off. Work out the familiar kink in your neck that sets in when you prop your head up on the arm rest without a decorative Ikea pillow to support you in your wild abandon. It gets a little worse every time but you pretend not to notice. Stumble, as if drunk, to hastily slip into bed without it noticing. Hold your breath apprehensively. The covers sigh around you, happy to take you in. You've made it. As you flip over, catch sight of your devious couch, waiting patiently for you to do this all over again tomorrow. The struggle tor my sleepy attention