School.

I hate school.

But I also love school.

Right now, though, it's not lookin so fantastic.

I enjoy learning. It's something of an addiction. Learning new things and reading and writing are awesome, but when things I have to learn/read/write conflict with things I want to learn/read/write, I get fussy. I get... well, like this. I decide to write blog entries that no one will read instead of finishing Mrs. Dalloway for my British Novel class. My room gets really, really clean. Chores get done that would normally be ignored. I am a procrastinator, but quite a productive one.

It's an interesting problem. I don't have time to do the things I want to do, and because of that I really value the free time I do have. I don't ever write or draw as much as I do when I'm on an academic crunch. Christmas break? Eh, I'll write later. Ten-page paper due tomorrow? Wow, I have so many AWESOME ideas for a story! It happens.

I have two speeches coming up. They won't be that intense. I don't like speeches, though: and that is enough of a factor to make me dread them. In one I have to do several close readings, and then summarize the text and help facilitate class discussion. In another I have to analyze two books we're reading and give a ten-minute presentation on the themes or style. Eh. Eh eh eh.

My Shakespeare class is probably the least stressful class I'm in. Here's proof.

How's that for good note-taking skills? I know. I'm special. "And then Hamlet turns, and *loss of focus*... I'mma draw a pony! With WINGS! and maybe some random doodles on the side, and oh - an eye. Because eyes are nice." Sometimes after a long day of school I'm surprised I have any mental functions at all.

I'm also trying to revive my poor garden. Well, maybe 'revive' is not the right word... maybe 'restart' is a better one. Starting last September I kind of just... um... left everything, and it's in various stages of decay or piteous half-life at the moment. I turned under about a third of the garden, stuck a few seeds in the dirt, and will see how that goes. If I have time.

But now I really must go read Mrs. Dalloway. Not my favorite thing to read before bedtime, but hey. Stream-of-consciousness is really not my thing, at least not in this style. Wasn't much of a fan of Joyce's either. I like some of it - the heightened sense of self-awareness and description of internal battles is interesting - but when it just keeps going... and going... and going.... annnd goinggg... and - you get the idea. Not my favorite.

I almost wrote that last sentence in German, which is a sure sign that a) I just finished my German homework, and b) I need to go to sleep.

Alrighty then.