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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
I'm Better
I think I'm already fed up with my Modern Poetry class. I'm a little surprised it took this long, but I thought the teacher perhaps might have pulled it out. She didn't. The problem is that she reads all the poems you are assigned to read prior to class, in the class and then asks about them. Why not just ask us first? WE READ IT FOR HOMEWORK! Ugh. I hate that s**t. The other thing I hate is when the teacher is so in love with what she is teaching that she rants about biographies of the writers. Okay, there is a difference. In Medieval Lit, Prof. Zarins goes on rants explaining the context of the time and how certain passages are compared to other works or references. Prof. Wanlass goes on about when the author was born, their daily lives, and rumors concerning their lives or the success of their works. If I really wanted to know, I would look it up myself. It is tougher to get all the references and connections looking it up myself. You see the difference? Yeah, it's now boring as hell. I'm not going to talk in that class anymore, unless it is to say something my neighbor has said since he is a brown-noser. Ugh.

I draw in Modern poetry . w . it feels good to practice again and I have stuff I have wanted to draw for a while. Didn't I tell you? I am making a storyline out of my real life so I can draw romance and friend things when I am lonely or emotional. Since my friends don't contact me much and the boyfriend often upsets me, I need something to turn my mind positive towards these people. I'm pretty clever at finding little fixes like this . w . I'm good at waiting.

So... otherwise my classes are wonderful! There is hardly any writing this semester, weird right? I have routine quizzes every Thur in one class and assumed quiz every Tue for soup in Lit. We also have free responses on the soup in Lit. but that's a once a week class so I get all week to write them and finish the readings. Lemme tell you, they are so fun. When I read, I keep thinking that Jordan probably already knows this stuff and she was telling me about this stuff last time I saw her. We are going to read H.P. Lovecraft and a bunch of Gothic Lit. I just think this is right up her alley. Well, and it's up my alley too. Lol. But my class of love is Medieval Lit... DUH. Haha. There are so many allusions to Greek myths that I am rolling like a ******** otaku with my books. It's.... bliss.

This is a happy semester, is you don't count the stress from getting the books and grandmother troubles. Oh man, tonight we are torturing her by not helping. She threw a fit today after the doctor visit because they told her nothing was wrong with her but old age. She told my Dad he wasn't helping enough. Dood. She has pooped her pants 3 days in a row, won't fix her own meals, complains she is dying because she needs to pee so often, and wants us to sleep over because she is convinced she will die any minute. It's just... facepalm over and over. This woman is so dumb. DUMB. And her old people friends tell her to go to the emergency room. FACEPALM. D-U-M-B. DUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMB. Gods. It is awful. I am helping because I don't want my Dad to bear this burden alone. He is... suffering so hard. Right now he's flaming pissed at her because she had the gall to tell him he wasn't doing enough and he's had to take off work to help her at the drop of a hat. We have assisted living saved for her Feb 14th, but that's the earliest we could find. The place is supposedly nice. She is going to see it for the first time this weekend, and whether she likes it or not... she's going there. All of her children are set against her. SHE HAS TO GO.

I'm not sad about it. I'm only annoyed that she thinks she can't do anything for herself. She wants a cup of hot water, won't microwave a cup. It's too hard to walk there. It's too hard to make instant oatmeal, which is microwaved. It's too hard to grab a salad from the fridge. It's too hard to grab the mail from the bucket outside, which the neighbor fills with her mail. It's too hard to turn the heat up herself. It's too hard to pull her covers over her body. Get the picture? It's not an exaggeration. Believe me, I wish it was.

I'm going to try to make a new friend with Farryl. We met at Jon's work party. We shall see how this goes.... worst case, I get a dance buddy >w<

As I feared, I got to the end of Seabeard. Until there is an update, there is not much for me to do but wait.

I am reading Odd Thomas, even though I shouldn't >.> but I only read like 2 chapters every work day so almost every other day. I wanted something light to read... but I really will get started on Atlas Shrugged soon. I tried to start it before and it reminded me of semi-lit posts where they write a s**t ton but it's all this long ******** a** rant about the scenery or the person's thoughts. Really boring and pointless. BLECH. I told the boyfriend that and he said the whole book was like that. ... great. Maybe roleplaying has spoiled me XD Haha, wouldn't that be funny.





 
 
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