Frustration Central
I'm currently experiencing extreme frustration at my wireless network. I lack the computer knowledge to fix said wireless network so that it won’t continually fade in and out, disconnecting me from the internet. Grrr…I wish computers would die. Not mine of course, I love my computer; we have a beautiful relationship. Sort of. It actually drives me crazy. But don't tell it that, it might revolt (again). Anyway, I'm tired. I've been reading the blogs/LiveJournals of various friends, acquaintances, and total strangers (ex. Zach Braff, artist behind Garden State). I really should be taking a nap, reading Virginia Woolf, reading plays, searching for monologues for Acting class, any number of things. Not included on the list of things to do: blog writing. Oh well.
We had our first house meeting Friday night. It was...intimidating. I realized for the first time that I have a lot of work to do as a result of my officer position. As house Vice Prez, I get to check bathrooms (gas mask included with office), check all windows and doors for proper operation and safety, schedule and execute fire alarms (ok, this actually sounds kind of fun, although the last one was kind of disastrous, the alarm wouldn't turn off, so we had to call the maintenance guy on the weekend...oops), and assign and check cook and clean crew. I think I actually have more to do than the house President. Oh well, whatever, I signed up for it. And I don't have to do a work job.
I'm currently reading Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own for my Women in Literature class. It's a little hard to read, 'cause she writes it almost like a novel, and I find myself missing the point. I guess that's what Dr. B------ is for [my wonderful, wonderful Dr. B------]. The class is much larger than my Intro to Shakespeare was, so I'm a little bummed about that. Three friends from Shakes showed up to class 50 minutes early to get the seats they had last semester, you know, get the group back together. I, on the other hand, am not nearly so dedicated (or punctual), so I was relegated to the seats that were left when I got there 5 minutes early. I'm waiting for the day when people start getting tired of going to class and show up later and later. Dr. B------'s class is not one to which people arrive late; although she does not take points for tardiness, she gives you this evil eye and you feel guilty. Not that I would know from personal experience, because I never was late to her class last semester, I had a class right before it. To give you an idea of how good Dr. B------ is, I dropped a Theatre class just so I could take Women in Literature with her. Sadly enough, this semester is her last. She is one of my favorite teachers thus far, although no one will ever hold a candle to Mr. K-------- of Junior IB English.
Well, it's time for me to go; my eyelids are staging a coup against the toothpicks which prop them open.
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