March 21st, 2002


*banging head on desk*

I hate today. Today SUCKS. Profoundly. For several reasons, which I will now outline.
One, it's the first day of Spring. Spring! You know, rain, birds chirping, green leaves and little buds on trees? Flowers? *Warmth*?
It's snowing. A *lot*. It's been doing that since around six o'clock this morning, and there's now close to two feet. All the public schools were given a day off today, though we've still got classes (something to do with over 80% of the student body living on-campus... damnit.). This is apparently the second-worst blizzard there's been since I got here.
I hate this province.
Second, I've decided that I dislike English 100. I hate that I dislike English 100. I hate that I'm starting to cringe at the mention of classical poets (though I had that reaction to Wordsworth before, and Frankenstein, ugh). I didn't last year. (Except Wordsworth.) I took all this stuff last year in AP, and as a consequence of X being the only university in the country that does *not* accept AP grades as first-year credits, I had to take it again - with a guy who's really just a Wordsworth/Keates fanboy, and happens to have written some poetry himself (that's why he's a prof - tenure and all that), but he's a terrible professor. Terrible. He makes everything so *boring*. I don't like being bored in English class. Makes me think I should check to see if I've got little spiny-things on the back of my neck like the aliens in X-Files. Then I think "no, I haven't been replaced by alien clones, he's just a bad prof, and stuff."
Third, the paper that I thought was due *tomorrow* was actually due Tuesday. I missed class on Tuesday. And have I got it finished?
Of *course* haven't got it finished. Damnit. It's on Milton. I don't particularly like Milton, either. I think all the classic poets are out to get me. Especially Wordsworth. And Dorothy. In that little boat. The only good thing I can think of is that I've already read Frankenstein. Uck.
Oh, why couldn't they have taken my AP credit? I could have just gotten a 95% credit, without having to take the class at all, or pay for it, and had my choice of either having a free class in which I could either do nothing, or take a 200-level course. That would have been nice. There was a Fantasy and Science Fiction course I was drooling over in September. But since the English Chair is an incompetent boob, no such luck.
I'm tired of school. Sigh.

Gods; I can't even see across the street now.

kimry says she sent me a package today. I have all sorts of lovely images of what is contained therein, and tomorrow after classes (and after I hand in my horrendously-late essay) I'm going to the post office. I doubt it will actually be there by then, but I'm going anyway. I'm expecting other stuff from Mum. (Oh, and her and Lil e-mailed me from New York last night. Around one. Lazy bums didn't get around to e-mailing me before then. Ah well.)
So someone tell me - is the overwhelming terror that failing to hand in a single essay will cause you to fail, thereby ruining your entire future a common delusion among first-year university students, or am I really as screwed as I think I am?
Must go write essay now. Stupid essay...
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