There's this final paper I turned in that was one of two. I worked so hard on it, and truly did the best job I could. It was about things in this world that matter to me so fucking much.
I received word today from the professor on my grade. I got a fucking perfect score. The highest grade one could get, and a personal note from the professor saying that it was excellent, and why.
I don't think I've ever gotten a perfect score on a paper in years. (Okay, sure, because the essays I wrote for the last five years have been in Spanish and #grammarandspelling, but STILL.)
I'm proud not for the score (although that is a really nice feeling), but for the work, the research and the words from the prof. I truly enjoyed writing it, and became one obsessed motherfucker for about three weeks.
Love and learning,
k.
(image: The man who will always win best hair of a philosopher from me. YOU may not be talking about making a porn about those two, Derrida, but *I* am. From pleto tumblr.)
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