This is us right now.
Our house is a hell hole.
Fall break is over.
I have a 10-page German analysis to write by Thursday. Everything about it sounds dreadful, except that I have okay things to say. My teacher wants to meet with me beforehand and look over my essay, because the grammar in my last 4-page essay was terrible. (I wrote it up in one hour.) Still, I got an A-. Yay for BS. But now my teacher thinks I have bad grammar, even though German grammar is my highlight.
I have a 3-6 page memoir to write before tomorrow evening. It’s just the first half–the memoir should be about 10 pages long. I don’t know what to write about. Should it be more like House on Mango Street, where I show bits and pieces of my life through short stories? What should I write about? Think, think, think.
Spencer missed his first class, because, like I said, fall break is over and it sucks. I don’t have class until 2. Spencer is “starting the very long process of organizing our apartment,” he says, annoyed. He is cleaning out the hutch.
Yeah. I’m being the bum on the couch with the computer. Maybe I’ll write my analysis.
My anxiety is creeping up on me. Figures. I’ve procrastinated.
The house is a hell hole.
I’m reading Persepolis. It is beautiful. It takes place during the Islamic Revolution. Read it.
I am not signed up to write articles Monday or Tuesday because I didn’t catch the email fast enough.
Blah, blah, blah.
The last bits of break:
See? Cause I was right next to him! (Laugh.)
We also went to Chinese night in our neighborhood and pretended to play chinese chess.