On our way out to an afternoon barbeque, my boyfriend and I noticed a small, bright yellow bird (my first guess is that this is a parakeet) sitting in the gutter of my driveway. It was too pretty and colorful to be an average wild bird so we both concluded that it was surely someone’s pet that had somehow escaped. After snapping a few photos, we figured the wings were clipped and tried an approach but the bird promptly fluttered up and out of our reach. It landed rather perfunctorily in our neighbor’s driveway and nibbled at nearby seeds. Despite our efforts to lure it with bread crumbs and trap it with an umbrella, it perched itself on a rooftop and was decidedly ready to die in the massive suburban ecosystem. After a few moments, we decided our attempts to recapture the escapee were futile. So long, sucker. I would’ve treated you like a king.

The episode rekindled my persistent desire to own a bird and I am now determined to purchase one. I’ve never had a bird before so Googling for just the right breed is important. I recieved mixed results on the best breeds and the level of maintenance involved in caring for a bird. But the majority of bird owners irk me, particularly those who allow birds to peck at their teeth, eat seeds off their heads or create web pages completely decorated in prayers for animals (I would think the novelty of a bird in a shirt pocket would have worn off by now but people seem to think this is a neat new trick). I’m narrowing my interests to the cockatiel and the adorably bright lovebirds. I probably won’t actually make a purchase until sometime in my fall semester when I’ve managed to pay off all my credit card bills and long after I’ve grown sick and tired of my DS Lite (which, by the way, should come in tomorrow). If only they had a pet bird simulation game on the DS Lite, I would be set.

I’m going to talk about my courses now which is why I made a “more” cut because more=boring. Tomorrow I have to turn in a paper on the play Antony and Cleopatra and I think it’s safe to say that I haven’t gotten anything done. This is because I’m officially sick of Shakespeare and I would very much like to never study him again. I understand that he is a genius and that I have been conditioned to sigh in admiration of his prose although I don’t understand a single line. I think I would be very happy if I never had to hear about Billy for the rest of my college career. With this being said, I’m going to write my paper on the toxic relationship between Antony and Cleopatra. You see, in my paper I’m going to establish that Antony is a raving masochist while Cleopatra is a charming sadist. After I pull this off, I’m going to jot down notes on the play Julius Caesar until the joints of my finger puff up and I start begging someone, anyone to just end my misery with a quick, painless blow to the head.

I’m an English Major and I enjoy it, but I’ve reached a point in my college timeline where I’ve finally grown weary of all the tedious analytical writing and just want to be done already. I’ve always been the kind of student who took classes studiously every single summer and am running out of bullshit. But now I find myself falling deeper and deeper into a state of academic lethargy. How much longer can I fool these professor into thinking I can write? Not that long, according to my instructor for Shakespeare in Text and Film. For my last paper, which I completed on less than 4 hours of sleep and approximately 5 hours before it was due, I wrote a piece questioning the love between Romeo and Juliet. It was essentially a load of shit that was littered with typos and poorly constructed sentences. Still, the paper had a point and was, in essence, properly supported and engaging. It wasn’t difficult to read; it simply hadn’t been proofread. My professor ripped my grammar to shreds. My sentences in general, could be considered elementary and I rarely take time to glance through my grammar book because I’m pretty sure I care more about whether my nail polish is chipped than whether I know what a predicative adjective is. President George W. Bush is the leader of the free known world (and a damn good cowboy too, dontcha know?) and can barely pronounce his syllables correctly let alone define the word sovereign without going into a vocabularly induced coma. I could probably run the country equally well if I had a lobotomy and a lisp, yet the C- on my paper dictates I’m barely smart enough to graduate.

Techincally, I have 2 more semester to go before I can graduate. Of course something like a mental meltdown could possibly prevent me from walking through graduation or getting through the rest of my life.

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