The Eleventh: Slightly More Awake

So I'm sittin here eatin dried cranberries, which are delicious by the way, but at 36 cents an Oz. are way out of my price range. Seriously, do you know how small an Oz. can be with dried food stuffs?! So I'm sittin here with some tea abrewin slowly wakin up from my morning coma to find its really fuckin late. I might very well fail this Comp class.

The blog per day ratio has shot up dramatically in the past few days due to not meeting expected quotas on Sunday and Monday. There are two papers I really must have done by the fourth, that are as of yet simply good ideas and fragile outlines. The acceptance system is very strange to me. Her Mistress the Professor will only accept one paper at a time... but what is a time? Could I turn one in during class, then rush home an email her another? This will soon be tested as there are not nearly enough days left to be meek. I don't care to inherit the earth - I need to pass!

Honestly I had this class in the bag a few months ago. It was fun. I was living the high life, turning papers in early, getting them returned with minimal revisions, actually enjoying the assignments as they came to us. Fucking wonderful. This college thing was shaping up to be a fucking piece of cake.

...Until the Bacchae and pulling out my hair, and getting into character, and not having a clue what I was doing, and dating when I shouldn't be, and being a professional, and not having enough sex, and getting good reviews, but not any sleep... Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming all this on the big bad college theatre machine that chews up hard working young girls and spits out nudey-modelin, drug-takin divas. Not in the slightest. The Manson Girls were completely in the wrong, but wasn't Manson himself a little bit responsible too?

At this point I should digress, but never fear dear readers I wont. And another thing: What the hell is this workshop style class shit? I welcome the idea in theory, but in principle all I really want is two more hours in my pajamas. Like a baby. Hmm I must sound awfully immature and childlike at this point. It's ok you can be honest with me. I might cry and throw something at the computer screen, but that's ok... Really it is... I'm gonna go take another nap.