Everything's pretty okay. I've hit the wall in the semester where I can no longer fluidly bullshit things like response papers; I'm dry. I'd estimate I've written about 25 of those-type things, at least, since August. Is that ridiculous? This is the part of the semester where I get really irritated at teachers and their massive pet projects they think are fun and educational and not making me feel like crying with frustration. I'm kind of selfish. Underprivileged youths in far-away countries would kill a mighty boar with his own tusk to be able to undertake an 8-page research project.
I'm reading this book:
I shouldn't be reading this book because it's not for a class, though it ties in well with the first half of my Early American Lit class. I think I need to take a more Puritanical approach to education.
I'm waiting to register. The paper schedule-of-classes thing told me I could register at 9, which I should have double-checked, because it's actually 10. The classes I want are all still pretty well-open, though.
(fingers, crossing of)
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