May 26, 2003 @ 11:54 p.m.
I am an good Inglish studnet!

Have you ever been having sex with someone, and all is going well and there's maybe a bit of dirty talk going on, and everything's hot and heavy and you're mumbling in their ear, and then suddenly you start getting the DISTINCT impression that maybe it's not your inherent hottness or your talent for the horizontal polka that's turning them on, but rather your use of adjectives?

No? Oh. Well, me neither.

Uni is still doing my head in. I handed in my final essay for my feminist fiction subject today, after completely busting arse to get it finished. It was due on Friday, but I don't think I'll have lost more than a couple of marks for lateness. I hope not. I hope I still do well. For one thing, it's worth 50% of the mark for the subject. For another, crunch time is on for me this year if I'm to get into Honours English, which I really, really want to do. And for a third and totally sappy reason, I want my professor to enjoy reading it. Not just so I'll get a good mark, although obviously that's part of it, but because I have this sad, desperate urge to please her and have her think well of me.

I have this absolutely massive crush on her. Not in a holiday for two in Lesbos kind of way, more like a "can I be you when I grow up, pretty pretty please?" She's so cool, and funny, and all that stuff. It takes a cool person to teach a subject where you're basically looking at some totally nasty stuff presented through literature, and making sure your students get out of it all that they need to, whilst maintaining a sense of humour at the same time. Feminist academics aren't generally a bunch known for their thigh-slapping hilarity, but this woman just comes out with these descriptions and one-liners that catch me off-guard every time. She's hilarious, and has a very black sense of humour at times, which I always approve of.

I'm doing another subject of hers next semester as well, so I get a whole year of feeling nervous and awestruck while sitting down the table from her. Woo, and also, hoo.

I have until Friday to write a short story and exegesis that I've barely started. Eeek. I like to think I'm not bad at creative writing (no, arseholes, this journal isn't creative writing, at least not most of the time), and my marks for my fiction writing subject reflect that too, but ugh. I know I need time to churn out something good. I draft and redraft and then redraft some more, it's always been the way I am with writing. I'm usually never really satisfied with my writing, and only stop the mauling process because of deadlines. So I'm not sure this piece is going to be up to scratch, and I'm worried. Maybe, since I've hardly started it at all, I can scrap it and write something else, but I really don't have any better ideas banging around in my head. Well, no non-pornographic ones, anyway, and I'm not sure what the lecturer's policy on accepting smut fiction is. Also, I'm nervous because the story I'm writing has been an idea I've had for about four years, which I've never done anything with. I'm sort of worried it's not going to turn out.

But enough of that! I merely wish to demonstrate how much school is preoccupying me at the moment. Rather a lot, as you can see.

The gym stuff is going swimmingly. My cat is Satan, and her breath smells like the sulphurous pits of Hell. Also, fish. It is Stuart's birthday on Thursday, he is turning ooooold. I suppose I should do something nice for him, but I don't know what senior citizens like to do these days, apart from put all their pension money in poker machines and have baths in kerosene and bitch about stuff.

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