I guess this is what a college student looks like. Also, for your information, that dimple on the side of my face is my most prized posession.
I am feeling like school is going to take over every spare second that I had before this semester.
With a new Shakespeare play assessment due every two weeks, I'm in for a few all nighters, I'm sure.
And now that I have complained about that class on every social networking outlet possible, I feel that I have adequately expressed my feelings on the matter.
Other true stories are these:
-My poetry professor's name is Brock (Just Brock. DO NOT CALL HIM PROFESSOR, OR ELSE).
-Brock is a very uncensored poet and a carbon copy of James Taylor. The whole hour yesterday, I couldn't help but wait for him to bust out his guitar and serenade us all with a little Fire and Rain. Well, to be honest, I couldn't help but hope he would do that... maybe tomorrow.
-There is a good looking boy named Daniel in my Shakespeare class, but since that worked out so well the first time, I don't think I will test it again.
-My Survey of American Culture professor reminds me of a sixty-four year old Forrest Gump, and I'm completely smitten by him.
-I have come to some judgy conclusions about my department's faculty. There are two styles of English professors: Librarianesque, and men who wear Keens. Librarianesque teachers are usually women dressed in black turtle necks, who accessorize with pastel shrugs. The men who wear Keens... please refer to my James Taylor teacher, Brock. He loves him some Keens.
-The Bachelor is fantastic this season. Is it about love? Definitely not. But when has it ever been? By the way, Sean Low? Awful choice. Bring back Arie.
-The employees at McDonald's are starting to know me by name. I haven't decided yet whether this is embarrassing or an accomplishment.
-The first 13 books that I bought today for school cost me a grand total of... are you ready for this? 97$!! Praises be to the used book gods.
-Remember that girl who punched me in the face on the first day of spring semester last year? Well, she's in my class again. This morning, she sat beside me and has no idea who I am. And I'm sort of offended because it's like,
YOU PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE AND THEN PROCEEDED ON AS IF THAT WAS A NORMAL INTRODUCTION.
She's still a trip.
-I think I'm one of those people I hate. My face says it all. Yesterday, a girl read her poem aloud in class. It was long, terrible, abstract, and angsty. I hope she wasn't looking at my reaction after she read it. I need to work on that. Or, perhaps, she should start producing some quality poetry. Then, I wouldn't have to make those faces. Just saying.
-I started watching Downton Abbey. Lady Mary's dresses are off the hook.
-I'm still living out of my Christmas break suitcase. I'm lazy. Get off my back, you organization nazis! ---Speaking of Organization, when has "Professional Organizer" ever been an actual title? Raise your hand if you think that girl on The Bach should get kicked off just because her job isn't real.
Glad I got those things off my chest.