Macbeth needs to take a prozac. His wife, too.
We're reading Macbeth in my online english class, as you can probably infer.
We're comparing it to the JFK assassination and an episode of CSI.
I know. Blasphemy.
I have two papers to finish by midnight tomorrow. That's going to be a pain.
It's not as bad as it seems, though. My "teacher" doesn't actually grade worth crap.
Although she needs to go fix those grades that she said she would... a week ago.
I sent her 4 messages in the past two weeks about mistaken grades. She's responded to one of them.
I still need to learn my music for honors chorus. And find somebody to room with.
I wish I had a job at a coffeehouse... the pleasant aroma of coffee, the interesting discussions about literature, boys, gossip, drama, school, theology, the Revolutionary War, soccer, and musicals. All of this would be wonderful.
Actually, I just want to live in a coffeehouse. Not work in one.
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