the BRUTAL, UGLY truth of my FABULOUS, BEAUTIFUL life.
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1:42 p.m. + 2003-09-03 = brew.
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i've been to two of my three classes and already i'm discontent. the best i can do for a grade in british women writer's is a B, perhaps a B+, because we are not allowed to miss any classes and well... i stated pointblankly that i will not be in class on the 13th and 15th of october since i will be in berkeley, and well... having a much better time than i would do in class discussing "villette" by one of those obnoxious bront� sisters. (charlotte, i do believe).
i'm going to price flights now in my free hour before i am whisked away to scandinavian pagan literature (in which i'll most likely need to feign interest since i've read nearly the entire reading list already on my own due to crazy-hunger for icelandic sagas and eddas in my elitist youth.) once riina leaves, i will divide my time between making fantasy reality and wowing british women writers professor with my pre-existing knowledge and understanding of julian of norwich (again, a product of my elitist youth's obsession with christian mysticism.)
huh... would you look at that... how fitting my star tribune horoscope is....
"Sometimes, a lovely illusion is just the thing needed to keep you inspired. Develop a fantasy that will motivate you when the chips are down. Cut a few cords that are keeping you emotionally tied up." cord #1: let go of home beer-brewing fantasy. cord #2: stop reading james thurber chronicles until after christmas. and we should all know my motivational illusion/fantasy... i tend to harp about it enough, i should daresay.
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comments?? --->[thisaway]--->[[looks to me as though there are...]]---> 0 repercussions thus far
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[[erstwhile]] ***** [[forthwith]]