Tell us a story; I know you're not boring
I am staring at the clock, willing it to get a move on, when any other time I would be pleading with it to take it easy. Patience isn't my forte.

My philosophy final was a little softer on the ol' cranium than I had imagined it would be. I studied the shit out of the prep questions last night while at the lab. I printed them out so I could go home and study. I'll be damned if I didn't leave them in the lab. So I got up early and came to campus to redo the questions and get some study time in. Hopefully Dr. Magada-Ward's bullshit detector will be too overworked to nitpick my contribution to the world of philosophy.

Now it's on to Women and Film, where I'll tackle such all-important questions as Who is Louise Beavers?, What is the significance of self-sacrifice in weepies?, and – my favorite – What function does Charles S. Dutton's Tyrone have in Mississippi Masala?

After the test (25 minutes and counting!), Amber and I are going to see a free screening of Mona Lisa Smile at Opry Mills. I'm scared that it will be the same faux-feminist tripe that Hollywood can't help but vomit up every now and then. I understand that they've got to try to appeal to the legions of fence straddlers, but I get so tired of regurgitated morals in films masquerading as insightful glimpses into human nature and existence. Plus I really hate Julia Roberts, so this should be fun. Maggie Gyllenhaal (sp?), however, is a cutie, so maybe it won't be all bad.

School's almost done! I've got minor things to do with my portfolio before tomorrow at 10 a.m., and then I'm free.