Today in the United States people of all backgrounds joined together to protest the horrible treatment of illegal immigrants by not coming into work or not buying American goods. I too joined in the protests...except since I didn't have any classes and I'm too poor to consume these days, it might not have looked like I was protesting. But I was. Definitely. I spent the whole afternoon in the coffee shop revising my final project, which now has a title: "Unexpected City Over Below and Above: Easy to Miss and Hard to Love" except I might make it shorter. John told me to come up with ten or twelve titles, which instantly got my back up against the wall. Naming a play is like naming a child! You can't just arbitrarily change it's name! You'll scar it for life! (thus the metaphor of writing a play=like being pregnant continues) I'm also looking for readers: if any of you crazy people out there would like to read it and give me feedback I'd appreciate it. Draft six and all of a sudden things that were funny two months ago no longer make sense. I have never revised this much in my life. Maybe writing a play isn't like being pregnant...unless your baby is Frankenstein's monster that you can switch out the limbs on or something.
I'm very excited about starting classes again tomorrow because I am, in case you can't tell from the drool hanging off my lower lip, bored. Bored, bored, bored, BORED. Yes, I'm writing, yes I'm looking for a job, but since everyone else is still neck deep in essays, there hasn't been a lot of people hanging out time recently. Which is why I managed to get through all of part two of "Ghosts of Albion" last night. The only thing funnier than Admiral Lord Nelson fighting 18th century zombies is...a zombie Admiral Lord Nelson. Who thought this was a good idea? Just thinking about it is enough to make me snicker. Touch me, I'm undead! mwahahahaha!