Bouqet of Clumsy Words

Creeps within this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

—Shakespeare

I have so much writing to do which I usually love. For some reason today, I cannot focus at all! It is infuriating. There is a blizzard going on outside and all I want to do is go outside and build an igloo or snowman. So naturally, I am on tumblr instead. Le sigh. I wish the paper I have to do was a free writing exercise because I have so many ideas bouncing around waiting to be written, but I have to write a critique of a literary critique. Underwhelming to say the least. I swear when I am a high school English teacher I will NEVER make my students do this.