Seriously? No, really, seriously? It's bad enough when I have to write something about a song or some quote that I don't relate to, but, Jesus Christ, this doesn't even have words to it. I have no idea who this is or why he matters or if he even matters at all. Am I expected to know who this is and why he's relevant? Really, excuse me for being so ignorant of this clearly important fellow's existence. Or maybe I'm supposed to be drawing conclusions from this friggin' picture and connect it to our reading. Prisoners? Tattoos? I have no idea what to do with this. I am baffled. I'm so confused about what I'm expected to do here that I'm getting angry.
But only a little angry; I got my Lollapalooza tickets today. 3-day passes for me and my entire group back home! I already have a place to stay, as one of my friends has an apartment. It's in Lincoln Park and the festival is in Grant Park, but hey, I'll take what I can get. I got tickets to see John Mulaney in Chicago as well! He's my second favorite comedian. I can't wait to see his awkwardness in person. I shall also be attending with friends who are as wonderfully pessimistic as I am. This is going to be a real treat. May 30th. So much to look forward to and hardly anything to dread–except for the next paper in this class. Jesus.
I got an expensive fancy pen from my mom's boyfriend for my birthday. They all think I ought to be a writer. I'm not too sure. If I can't even come up with something coherent to write about a picture, how promising of a writing career can I really have?
But only a little angry; I got my Lollapalooza tickets today. 3-day passes for me and my entire group back home! I already have a place to stay, as one of my friends has an apartment. It's in Lincoln Park and the festival is in Grant Park, but hey, I'll take what I can get. I got tickets to see John Mulaney in Chicago as well! He's my second favorite comedian. I can't wait to see his awkwardness in person. I shall also be attending with friends who are as wonderfully pessimistic as I am. This is going to be a real treat. May 30th. So much to look forward to and hardly anything to dread–except for the next paper in this class. Jesus.
I got an expensive fancy pen from my mom's boyfriend for my birthday. They all think I ought to be a writer. I'm not too sure. If I can't even come up with something coherent to write about a picture, how promising of a writing career can I really have?
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