Jane Austen. Jaaaane Austen. Jane-be-Jane. The Au-stone. Janey McJane-erson. The Janemeister. Jaaane.

This is the extent of my short response paper on Pride and Prejudice so far. You know the end of school is approaching when your thought processes dictate themselves through old Rob Schneider skits.

I should not still be thinking about "matrices" in Jane Austen. I should be throwing water balloons for Field Day. I should not be having to wade through Percy Shelley. I should be getting out of sitting in the sun during WBMS Olympics to help Mrs. Cropper shelve textbooks in the bookroom. I don't need to read another passage about how the French disdain Americans for using ice cubes in their beverages. I need to be hopping into my Jeep, stealing away from campus early to snag a tall Tazoberry n' Cream.

And yet, there's something really pleasurable about being on the cusp of summer for so long. I might not enjoy riding my bike around campus at dusk so much if I weren't neglecting Jane Austen. There's something succulent about life when you're riding the weather on a forward slant. So close, yet so sweet.

I think I'm going to read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy again this summer.

Listening to: Iggy Pop - "The Passenger"