Well, what now? You have no job. I have no job. Wanna play Jenga?

I knew it was beautiful, but knowing something is beautiful and caring about it are two very different things, and I didn't care.

I am a mass of contradictions.

Well, what now? You have no job. I have no job. Wanna play Jenga?

I could pretend, at least, and if I pretended long enough, maybe I could make it into a reality.

The essay I had to read was called, "An Essay on Criticism" by Alexander Pope. The first challenge was that the essay was, in fact, a very long poem in "heroic couplets". If something is called an essay, it should be an essay.

Stuart must have sensed my despair from the way I began lightly banging my forehead on the table.