Never, never again

This summer has just been amazing. The best summer of my life, probably. Why, you ask? Well, let me just TELL you why right now. There is one reason and one reason only: summer school. That's right, I took summer school. Be impressed. Three beautifully educational classes that have increased my intellectual knowledge so much so that I feel like an entirely new person than I was even three months ago. I mean, who doesn't love reading the philosophical theories of Plato (Play-doh), Aristotle (Air-is-tottle), Saussure (Seh-sss-u-r-e), Freud (Fr-oi-d), Derrida (Dare-i-dah), Lacan (Luh-cawn), Marx (Mar-ks), Althusser (All-thoos-sss-air), Foucault (Foo-koh), Fanon (Fuh-non), Benjamin (Ben-ya-meen) and Jameson (Jame-es-son)? Not me, that's for sure. I love reading the essays of men who think they know everything there is to know about everything. And I love writing essays about the flawlessness of those theories, theories that I, of course, understood perfectly the first time I skimmed through them. Of course.

I finished these classes this past week and I am so sad. Depressed, even. I have to hang out with friends and do fun stuff instead of studying and doing the homework I always finished on time. I stay out late instead of going to bed early like I did every night when I had class. And I no longer get to look forward to sitting in class every Tuesday and Thursday acing quizzes and listening to the very interesting lectures of my professor that would enlighten my mind so much that I could barely keep from singing.

However, I find comfort in knowing that this leisurely time of my life must only torment me for two more weeks, because fall semester starts in just two weeks and I couldn't be more excited to start school all over again. In two weeks.

I can barely contain myself.