the BRUTAL, UGLY truth of my FABULOUS, BEAUTIFUL life.

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8:43 a.m. + 2003-09-26 = here i go again...

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it's only 3-5 pages... and with me only doing so much as i need to eke by, that means 3 pages. although, i have the feeling that i could turn in 2 pages of beautiful prose-like essay and still shine. (this feeling is based upon fact: i wrote poetry explication in thirty minutes... it was utter crap... i receive the graded version of it back on wednesday... i got a B, but more importantly, i was the only one in the class that doesn't have to turn in a re-write, and the instructor who had written on the know-it-all, annoying girl's explication paper, "You need to re-write, you are FAKE," wrote upon mine, "you turn a pleasing sentence." i take it as an undeniable compliment from the woman with the spectacular vernacular, but there must be a certain nepatism working within this context, i am certain of it.... i own it. it is a good asset. now on to panicked writing morning with pavement's "date w/IKEA" on constant repeat.

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comments?? --->[thisaway]--->[[looks to me as though there are...]]---> 0 repercussions thus far

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[prologue] *** [epilogue] ***[plottwist!]

[[erstwhile]] ***** [[forthwith]]