Time to write another paper. Seriously, I've dreaded getting up every day for the last few days, it seems to never end. Paper, after paper, then research, then paper. I just hate writing one after another like some kind of literary-analysis machine... My comments on sounds in The Tempest... My comments on how The Professor's House and The Great Gatsby treat memory in similar fashions... My commentary on how the context of historical fact influenced Aristophanes' work... All in 40 pages or less... The part of my brain that looks for the deeper meaning in literature is crossing its arms and refusing to come out and play.

I can't wait for Monday at about 8... I'm going to come home and collapse.

Back to it then I suppose.