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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/380727-Leh
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Rated: 18+ · Book · Personal · #911202
My first ever Writing.com journal.
#380727 added October 20, 2005 at 12:10pm
Restrictions: None
Leh
nineteenth century literature makes me want to die. she's disappointed in us for our shittiest-ever midterm grades; she says we ruined her weekend and now she's going to ruin ours, even though this coming weekend is homecoming, by making us retake for a max of twenty extra points. lowest grade on the test was a thirty, highest was a seventy-nine. half the class has hardly any incentive to retake, just to go from an ugly f to a slightly more respectable one. i have incentive, i could get an a with the full twenty, but this is not the weekend to be messing around with retakes. oduduwa and i are corpse briding tonight, then krystle and i are going to midtown to take a painting class at the gay bookstore, and saturday is the game and the step show and my godparents coming, all of which require my attentive presence. so, friday night, four essays and seven thousand chapter identifications. all of this when, like ernie suggests, it must really be more than coincidence that everyone did so poorly, but she is the type of professor to assume that she's done the best she could, and that we are just so shockingly ignorant that nothing has sunk in.

on the bright side, not having class monday or tuesday has turned this week into a dart-tipped projectile, and sent it shooting by. already thursday! unbelievable! we are rolling headlong into the most massively awful weekend ever! homecoming needs to just end, already, so people can stop constantly asking why i look like death, and so this harmelodic hum (did i really) will just go away already. and also, so the alumni will get off our campus. it's a festive time, sure, but tons of us are still trying to rescue our grades after various ruinous midterm debacles, and the black escalade tailgates are just overindulgent, really. this has been this morning's crochety old man moment.

on the brighter side, i forgot, again, to submit my timesheet last friday. ms. tidwell obviously thinks i am chief of the idiot tribe, because she can't conceive of anyone doing this except for the extravagant pay.

shit. out of time.

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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/380727-Leh