I always, (I have just realized this,) come out of Literature class feeling stupid, guilty about my selfishness, and generally worthless. A sneaking suspicion exists at the back of my head that this is not the point of the class, but I don't really know. I tend to be really non-articulate, and give exactly the oppisate impression from what I'm trying to say. Sigh.
Also, to complete my mood of wonder and light, I've found out that my philosophy paper had font size specified. *beats head against wall* I just got it up to 10 pages, and now that I had to take it from 12pt. to 11pt. it's only a hair over 7. *gloom*
I'm not even broaching the subject of the Art paper. (or the Scriptures paper (or the literature paper (or the paper for Dr. Patrick.)))
There was a funny moment in Literature class though. Professor Tucker was asking us if we did anything other than study, and we were answering in the negative. Then:
Prof. Tucker: Nothing?Ah, Augustine...
Sue: We [her house] made hot chocolate that requires brandy, rum and vodka. Does that count?
No comments:
Post a Comment