Bonita, ayay!
So, it's Sunday, and instead of being cold and dreary as the weatherman said, it's warm and sunny and far too beautiful for words.
And what am I supposed to be doing? Writing a research paper on existentialism and The Stranger by Camus.
Besides the fact that this is an obscene demand granted the fact that classes are over muy pronto, I'm having a real issue writing a paper on existentialism.
If I want to be outside, in the beautiful day, and if I don't want to be writing a paper, wouldn't the existentialist thing to do be go outside and fuck the paper?
An interesting idea, and a real problem given that it's worth 6516845156% of my final english grade (I think it's more or less the only grade this semseter) and the fact that I think I lack sufficient balls to just blow it off.
Still, ugh.
Maybe I'll write the research paper on how much I doin't want to be doing it, and how I didn't want to read The Stranger either, so I didn't, and that's how existentialism ties into it.
And what am I supposed to be doing? Writing a research paper on existentialism and The Stranger by Camus.
Besides the fact that this is an obscene demand granted the fact that classes are over muy pronto, I'm having a real issue writing a paper on existentialism.
If I want to be outside, in the beautiful day, and if I don't want to be writing a paper, wouldn't the existentialist thing to do be go outside and fuck the paper?
An interesting idea, and a real problem given that it's worth 6516845156% of my final english grade (I think it's more or less the only grade this semseter) and the fact that I think I lack sufficient balls to just blow it off.
Still, ugh.
Maybe I'll write the research paper on how much I doin't want to be doing it, and how I didn't want to read The Stranger either, so I didn't, and that's how existentialism ties into it.