I only just finished my paper for my English and American Literature by Women class. It's actually... not bad. I deconstruct the garden leitmotif Christina Rossetti uses in her poetry and outline the rather pessimistic view of the state of womankind, a view that is not exactly surprising since she was a Victorian poet.
So, yeah. It's 12:40 AM, and it's due at 10:50 AM this MORNING (my brain is toast, I can't calculate how many hours I have 'til class), and the paper is done. But it isn't! Because I have to do a works cited list. Shout it from the rooftops, people: "FUCK YOU, MLA." Or maybe I should just go with, "F U, MLA." Ha ha ha ha hah aaaaaa -- it's funny because I'm not.
Postscript: Nearly an hour later, at 1:35 AM, I am done and PRINTING. I had eight sources cited. My mind just wanders with the tedium of... My mind wandered. Right then. Anyway, my mind wanders with the tedium of formatting everything to MLA's standards, and it blows, and I hate it! F U, MLA.
So, yeah. It's 12:40 AM, and it's due at 10:50 AM this MORNING (my brain is toast, I can't calculate how many hours I have 'til class), and the paper is done. But it isn't! Because I have to do a works cited list. Shout it from the rooftops, people: "FUCK YOU, MLA." Or maybe I should just go with, "F U, MLA." Ha ha ha ha hah aaaaaa -- it's funny because I'm not.
Postscript: Nearly an hour later, at 1:35 AM, I am done and PRINTING. I had eight sources cited. My mind just wanders with the tedium of... My mind wandered. Right then. Anyway, my mind wanders with the tedium of formatting everything to MLA's standards, and it blows, and I hate it! F U, MLA.
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The Television Personalities ROCK, by the way.