Starbucks and Melanie Wilkes.

It is the first week of school. I finished my math homework this morning because I drank five cups of paris. I am about to go do the little bit of French that we were assigned. Also, it must needs be noted that I have only been in there once so far this term, but I already know that my History teacher is an arrogant man.
He talked about Krakow like it was genius and made the Nazis sound brilliant. And he pretty much told all of us we're stupid because he can quote Faulkner and he assumed we can't.
I don't even like "Requiem For a Nun." For that matter, I don't even like Faulkner. He's dry.
And he likes Orwell. God save us all, the man made me read "1984" without even asking me if I wanted to.
Why is it that every History-driven professor I have met is conceited? And they love--they almost worship--the writers they shouldn't?
I think I might just be upset because he bashed "Gone With the Wind." I am fiercely devoted to Margaret Mitchell.

Mandy and I have already made one Starbucks trip so far this term. I think we're in for ruin. We aren't even close to our French oral exam time, and we're already downing caffe americanos.  It is a brilliantly good thing that my Mother bought me a ceramic coffee filter this Christmas. Time to find the good cups for the morning and wake up fifteen minutes earlier.

I should make note that I found my copy of "Gone With the Wind" the other day.
It is a new year, and the perfect days to fall in love with Ashley and Scarlet and Melanie and Rhett all over again.