Chandri MacLeod (chandri) wrote,
Chandri MacLeod

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School Status

So, done all the piddly introductory-barely-counts-as-writing assignments. Soon we get into the big stuff that kills my brain. Though not really, because it's, hell, reading and a few essays, so if anyone catches me complaining excessively please smack me. It's not like I'm wandering back and forth to class every day.

Anyway. One more thing this month, which is a 1,000-word essay due Friday (for which most of the work will be the background reading, hah), then nothing else due 'til the tenth of June, which will be a 1,500-word essay on something else. The longest thing I've got to write is eight pages. Pity I can't do this for all the rest of my credits. Upside: after this semester I need only eighteen more credits/six classes, only three of which will be actual effort/specifically dictated as a requirement. My last semester will be three classes of whatever-the-hell-I-want in upper-division in any faculty so long as it's Arts. Though unfortunately I can't take any French, as I keep meaning to do, because I'm stupid and haven't taken any since high school and even if you did Immersion you have to start in 200-level for at least one class. Maybe I'll do it this Fall. I only need one more History class, after all, and Fall has the best choices. If I'm incredibly, improbably lucky I might even get that Fantasy and Popular Lit class and be so deliriously happy I don't mind adding unnecessary stuff to my workload. ;)

I made myself a calendar, one-month-to-a-page, crappy so I don't mind writing on it (like on my real calendars which are always pretty so I don't want to hurt them) with my assignment due dates and exam dates typed in red. Makes my workload look much less intimidating, because discounting the reading it looks like I only have to do any work three or four days out of a month. (On which topic: the Black Bond Books in the mall just filled the position. So no bookstore job at the mall two blocks away for me. What is it with all these places? A full half of places I've gone looking have just hired. It's just the ones I wouldn't consider unless I were destitute, homeless, and insane that are desperate for help. *eyeroll* I shall check the Quay shops when I go down tomorrow to look at the... um... *eyedart* ...thing Kim mentioned. That I shan't mention. Because it's a surprise. Bwahahah. *evil grin* And maybe the other stores on Columbia within a few blocks of the Skytrain station. I know I'm probably going to have to branch out more, but I'm checking walking-distance stuff first, all right? :P) Completely unrealistic, I realise, but helpful in a self-deluding sort of way. I've only got three classes. It is not a panic-inducing situation.

By the way: Vanity Fair is the longest book ever. (Note: I know it isn't actually the longest book ever.) It is at least the longest book ever in which nothing even remotely interesting appears to happen. And it is definitely the longest book ever in which I fail to develop anything resembling empathy or affection for any single one of the characters. And the babbling. GODS. This is one of those cases where the guy may not suck, but somebody with a red pencil and a pair of steel-toed boots really should have descended upon the bastard at his desk and STOPPED THE MADNESS, THE OVERLY-WORDY MADNESS. WE GET IT ALREADY. REBECCA'S A BITCH. LET IT GO.

Okay. It is once again significantly past midnight and I spent most of this week awake all night, so I'm going to bed. (Though before I go I'd like to boast about my cell-phone's new wallpaper - Violet - and my new ringtone, which is "So Long and Thanks for All the Fish" from HHGttG, which was definitely the most redeeming thing about that movie.)

dianahobart? Thoughts on Monday? I'm going to phone to check, because you seem to like blipping in and out of existence, but I'll put it here so I don't forget and have to rush out and buy what I plan to buy you. ;)

Note to self: need new icons. Old ones getting dull. Would welcome suggestions/donations. *innocent blinking*

Second note to self (and others): I found what looked like an antique store/junk shop on 12th Street and a stained glass shop while walking back the much-less-creepy way from the 7-Eleven. Must go back there, at least the glass place. Have been meaning for a billion years to replace the broken pane in Mum's kitchen door with something pretty. Someone try and remind me when it's applicable?

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