May 18th, 2006



I hate my creative writing class with the burning fury of a thousand suns right now.

More to the point, I hate the book we're supposed to work out of, and think it's entirely bollocks, but he wants a notebook of writing done off the fucking questions in the book. But I *hate* the fucking book. Hate hate hate.

So I'm bored to tears doing these stupid things, and I don't know how I'm going to get ten of them done before tomorrow.


[Edit: For your enjoyment (please note sarcasm) is one of the questions in the book. Keep in mind, this is probably one of the *better* prompts:

"Keep a list of issues you can't make up your mind about -- whether to quit your job, stop eating meat, tell someone off, major in English, try psychotherapy, admit a parent into a nursing home. Choose one issue, and create a verbal picture for each alternative: what you see, hear, taste, smell, and feel happening if you commit yourself to one alternative; then the other. These pictures do not need to be realistic; let your imagination offer its details."

I hate you, book.]