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I cannot decide at this point if I am more looking forward to D's return or the start of fall semester. Haha, what an amusing thought- that I am actually looking forward to school! I never thought I would finally find a subject I loved enough to actually motivate me to attend full time, let alone one which actually has me looking forward to summer break being over! Well, I suppose at least part of my eagerness for summer to be over is so as to have this atrocious waste of money and time they call "English 111" out of the way. This class is the biggest waste of energy I have yet to experience (well aside from first year English, anyway). Two and a half hours, three days a week. And guess what is accomplished during said time? We pick apart two stories every class; roughly an hour for each. Never have I been involved in such inanely pointless analytical banter prior to this. It is absolutely ridiculous. Of course, I have always had a problem with English courses for the reason that they do indeed ruin many great works of fiction solely by their shameless dissecting of every single word, phrase, paragraph, stanza, soliloquy, and quote ever written. But this class simply takes the cake! There is no way in hell every little minuscule detail in a story is indicative of some greater subliminal whole. Come on, I write all the time for fuck's sake, and I know that often times even the author of a composition is not entirely clear on the meaning of a certain phrase or paragraph; that sometimes things simply come out, and because they sound or feel right, we leave them as they are and allow them to retain some semblance of perplexity. This is part of the great beauty of literature- that sure, it can indeed be symbolic, but at the same time it can often be simply what it is: a series of words which sound lovely when placed in a certain lineal organization. It really makes me ill when English professors insist beyond a doubt that there is always some great hidden meaning within every written word, because I simply know this is not always the case. Sometimes it is the simplicity which is most beautiful. And there is no right or wrong interpretation of a work!!! That is the beauty of art of any form- it is all subjective. It is what you make of it, combined with what the creator makes of it combined with what the person standing five feet in front and two feet to the left of you makes of it. Ugh, sometimes English professors can really rub me the wrong way. I greatly resent being forced to spend money and time on a class which is so far below my level so as to be degrading! And it differs none from the classes of the same subject I took in middle school! Thank god this is the last of my bullshit entry level prerequisites. Finally, I will be finished with imbecile level courses which I am capable of passing while in the throes of a brain damaging coma!