So, as I predicted, I will not get a reprieve from writing next term. I imagine many of my faithful readers are saying, “You’re an English major, so writing is something you’re going to become very acquainted with.”
And to that, I say, I know.
It was just wishful thinking that I might get a break from constant writing of papers about endless nothingness. But, no such luck. In my World Lit class, I am writing a short paper EVERY. SINGLE. WEEK. If that’s not enough, I also have a final paper on a topic concerning one of the novels/stories we’re reading throughout the course. And, I get to be a teacher for one week of the class. Holy fuck. I have to gather with my classmates (if they claim the same topic) and create two questions for a discussion board on the book we’re reading that week. I am leaning towards either the week we’re reading Pablo Neruda poems or Baudelaire. Sadly, we’re not covering Keats.
This is my reaction to no Keats:
But, I shall carry on with my life, because Abnormal Psychology will be interesting. My professor wants us to submit a photo of ourselves to the ice-breaker, so he can put a face to the name. Now, I have to pick a recent photo (which I was snapping while writing this) to submit. I am wearing make-up, which my baby sister instructed me on how to properly apply my eye makeup.
On that note: when did my baby sister grow up? Also, how pathetic is it that my sister, who is twelve years my junior, has to teach me how to apply makeup? It has nothing to do with the fact that she wants to become a makeup artist. Nope, not at all.
Anyway, when I have gone through my photos, I might post a few. I am sure there are some within my readership who are excited about this prospect.
Until then, my followers.