Oh, I missed classes today. Bad, bad me. I got up, took a shower and was coherant enough to bug Kyle to give me a reason to go to class, but I made the mistake of dressing in my bed. I lay down to put my pants on and woke up five hours later. Bad girl. I got up and e-mailed my TA about the study session location, which was the only reason I needed to get to my British Literature class. Now I have these notes on my lap, and I'm determined to get studying in before the last minute. The midterm is on Friday. Oh, payday is Friday as well. Not such a bad day, then.Evan visited. I know I'd have made it to class if he was still here this morning. But he's back home. I'm going to visit him for a weekend in November, I'll get to meet his parents and more of his friends.
The Transporter is a good movie, a group of us saw it on Friday. Very Jackie Chan, and some of the music was silly, but it was an action movie and my expectations weren't too high to begin with. So of course when I say it was a good movie, I mean it was a fun movie and I wasn't bored through the oil fights and the explosions etc.
I'm studying for this midterm and reading backgrounds on the poetry that I can find online. One of the only links from Blake's "London" points to a free essay. And honestly, I can't believe how terrible this essay is:
When the speaker says that he can hear the "mind-forged manacles" he doesn't mean that he can literally hear the mind forged manacles but that he can hear the cries of the people which show their mind-forged manacles.
Whaaat?
It gives me a little twinge of joy that I can write better than essay harvesters.
