That's the second-to-last paper I will *ever* have to do at Dougie. And it sucks, but I am having serious difficulty making myself care, because even if it sucks it's still going to come out in the top five in this class by virtue of my not being a quasi-literate teenager. (I spent about three quarters of an hour total on the last paper for this class, but he gave me an A anyway. I think that depresses me. Society, y'know.)

Oh, and this is the last time I'm using Frankenstein. For anything. EVER. (I hate you, Mary Shelley. And you, Wordsworth. And you, too, Dickens, but I guess it's not your fault that not a single one of your contemporaries ever explained to you the glory of EDITING to save me from reading through a hundred pages of superfluous garbage. I'll probably forgive you, Dickens, if only 'cause of A Christmas Carol. But not you, Wordsworth. Your soul is forfeit. >.<)

I still can't believe I was driven to using Frankenstein at all, to be honest. But I procrastinated and then I needed an appropriate novel that a) I could get through in less than a day and b) was actually in my posession. And... yeah. I tend to borrow classics, not buy them. Except second-hand, 'cause I like the old covers (Note to self: check New West library for discards?). And wow, has it been that long since I bought books?

(September. Wait 'til September.)

Anyway, it's done, and I've got another one for the other history class due Friday, which will be emminently more interesting but a touch more stressful because I've got research, but no outline to speak of, and only the vague resemblance of a subject, and on this one I actually have to try.

Okay. Breakfast.