Oh, Charles Dickens, you crazy, CRAZY fool.

In English, we're currently reading Great Expectations, written by Charles Dickens. This book makes me want to claw my eyeballs out, grind them into a soup, and sip at this dinner delight. I really, really can't stand it.

This story has quite a bit of plot twisting and turning, and I think the plot itself is great. I won't deny that Dickens is a master of foreshadow, and that it IS wonderful, but...The book itself. It's so WORDY. There's so much...Nothing. I mean, there are parts where the main character, Pip, simply gazes out the window, and it tells everything he sees...And that's it. He just sits there. Looking out the window. And he talks and talks and talks about the guy with the red shirt that just walked by. I don't care about the guy in the red shirt. If this isn't going to be of importance later, I really don't want to know.

I'm not a creative guy. My mind works on logical things, making connections from one idea to the next, constantly stirring. It bores me to have a kid just sitting there...doing nothing but looking out a window. I'm just having trouble appreciating it. Maybe I'll like it better when I'm looking to relax. Maybe when I'm eighty, and that's what I'm doing with my probably boring life. But...Right now...in ninth grade...I just can't...do it. It doesn't work. I can't take it. These are not the droids you are looking for. These are not the droids I am looking for.

Not to mention that my English teacher is a nutjob. I mean, he tries to make these jokes, and it'd all be good, except...They're not funny. At all. Everyone makes bad jokes from time to time, and a lot of people make bad jokes ALL the time. Connelly here, however, is not quick enough to pull them off. He'll make an attempt at it, but he just can't seem to phrase it right. It got really on my nerves.

And with that, I end my rant. Have a nice day, everyone. ^_^

-Tom