Mom, you might want to skip this post.

*RAMBLE ALERT!*

I don't think I've suddenly hated a class with such sudden passion and despisement (which isn't really a word, and I know that) since Mr. Stupid Coleman's "honors" English class when we watched Anne of Green Gables and played with video equipment and didn't learn anything productive. That's how I feel about Lit Theory. I understand there are different ways to look at texts and different critical theories to apply to those texts and these are important to someone, but they aren't to me. If I'm reading something, I don't want to categorize how I feel about it into, "oh, that's a psychological approach....you need to take it with a feminist view." I just want to read a story, draw my own conclusions, and move on with life. I guess that makes me a bad English major (bad girl, bad!) but I don't care too awful much. I want to completely blow off this paper, this next class, this entire course and I already know I wouldn't have all that much guilt about doing so. Yes, I put off this paper. It's partially my fault that I'm screwed or stuck or both or whatever.....but I know I'm not the only one who feels the same way about the class. And it's all the things about high school English classes I despised and thought I was moving away from once I got to college, yet now they're all piled together into one semester that I have to pass to keep my major because it's so incredibly beyond required that I have this and I just hate the English department for forcing this on me AND making it writing enhanced. Hate them hate them HATE THEM for it, especially since I can write all this tripe better than I can even come up with an idea for my paper.

End rant. For now.