School can be over now, please.

[charloween]

*runs in circles, screaming*

I am so ready for school to be over. The Damned English Class is over, but I still have term papers in the other four classes left to write.

The OMG I ♥ FANVIDS paper (oh, cultural studies) is neeeeeeeeearly done. So veeeeeeeeeeeeeery close. I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore I don't want to think anymore *cries*

*brain is pudding*

Comments

[squonk.livejournal.com]

Chocolate?! You would poison my guide dog, just to raise the madness quotient? Jeez! I'm-a report you to the morality police.

I refuse to work on my glosa until Sizzlers shows up with my sandwich.

[dapikkel.livejournal.com]

I'm bad at forethought. Although killing a dog would certainly bring the tea party toward the "mad" side of things.

What on earth is a glosa poem?

[squonk.livejournal.com]

It's this (http://www.criticalpoet.com/forum/viewtopic.php?p=155153).

I'm using the last quatrain of Thomas's "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night," because I'm an insane person. At least the rhyme sounds aren't too difficult. The form as a whole, though, is.

And there's no way it's going to be done for tomorrow. Oh, well.

[naturelf.livejournal.com]

The Thomas poem was the first piece of poetry I studied in school.

Grade 7 English rocked. We did that, Maya Angelou, Twelfth Night, Washington Irving and a whole other pile of odds and sods. *thumbs up*