Putting my thinking face on, trying to get all of this stuff out of the way in time for class. I have to finish writing a paper that has to be at least seven pages. Thankfully, it is already seven pages; now it just needs polishing, maybe a dash of coherence. Maybe I'd be able to think more clearly if I had some food in my belly. As it stands now, at least the only thing in my head is everything I've read by Virginia Woolf this semester. Four novels. It's good to have a brain full of books. But tugging at the other end of my consciousness is The Tempest, nagging at me to be read. I like it most out of any of the Shakespeare we've read over the past few months, and I'm only an act in. I hope Kenneth Branagh has done a rendition of this one too. I think he should probably just put out a boxed set of the complete Shakespeare. I'd even listen to him recite the sonnets.
And after class this afternoon, I get to crochet for fifty billion hours straight. If only we hadn't watched the last of Evening With Kevin Smith last night. I need something that would be good in the background, something to keep me laughing so that I don't get frustrated. We shall see.
Tomorrow it's back to Jersey by way of Redding. I will probably be freaking out the whole time. I miss my family so much. And Maggie. Plus, I have Georgie's book to read.