The End of the Conveyer Belt

This quarter is winding down with two research papers and two exams left to go - and then I'm done forever or until I decide to get my Master's (whichever comes first). Today I wrote my last essay - a paper on the self-proclaimed bard of the masses. It feels weird to say that after an entire year of writing two or three essays practically every other day. And all I can think about is: Walt Whitman, what were you doing over there in the fruit section all alone?

I think I'm exhausted but I won't know for sure until the end of next week, after I've written a good forty pages on American literature. Or borrow a leaf from Plath and stick my head in the oven. Either way.

1 comment:

  1. I'm betting you'll wait at least a year before throwing yourself under the essay-writing train again. Let me just say: you have vast reserves of fortitude unknown to me! Please don't off yourself; I'm going to need you to hold my hand.

    ...on the other hand, if the urge to stick your head in the oven is utterly irresistable, could you check on the brownies while you're in there?


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