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Homework
Can I just say how much I hate homework? GRR.

I have decided, after writing out 99% of my homework assignments (several papers w/o definite due dates aren't on the list), that I am just going to work on it for 5-6 hours each evening (until my brain stops absorbing information, basically), rotating books after 10 pages apiece, and writing each assignment as it comes up as I go down my list until I'm DONE. Except for the papers.

...At this rate I should be done (and burnt out) by my birthday. Hopefully slightly before, so I can relax and let the alcohol do its thing. (You bet your ass I'll be having Matthew drive me home.)

Oh, on that note: I think, unless anyone else has suggestions that are condusive to including those who are still underage, that I will be having a Birthday Dinner at Chili's. My birthday is on a Friday, so that shouldn't be TOO much of a problem (I wonder if you can do reservations for larger parties at Chili's). I shall post more details as I figure them out. Anyone who can make it is welcome to come! (Just let me know, okidoke?)

Edit: As of 4:00 this afternoon, all the homework that is due this week is DONE. Now I need to finish the stuff for next week. Yes, I'm serious about this! 90% of it is just reading, and 5% is writing reviews of my history chapters. So, seriously, I'm only left with 5% of my homework left to do once I finish everything!

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Ankhet
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Jabberwocky
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

-Lewis Carrol, 1871
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