It feels like I've lived three lifetimes since I posted last. Looking back my last post-date is shockingly close to today considering what I felt like I've been through.
School has started and the last two weeks I feel like I've been a wreck; not to mention running six quarts of oil in a four quart engine (no, I don't know anything about mechanics but I heard a mechanically savvy man say that once and it sounds like it fits, so there. Copped.).
I think the most brilliant part of my semester is going to be wrapped up in Creative Nonfiction. It is also the most time consuming and emotionally hammering. I spent four days last week crying cathartic tears as I wrote and worked through experiences in the recent and not-so recent past. I desperately wish--in a way--that I could quit all my other classes and focus solely on this. It would be like a workshop for what I desire to do with my life; sit and write day after day, interview friends about past experiences, talk to family about the unofficial "secrets" and explore my own understanding of experiences as they shaped my life.
Alas, four other classes (officially, five unofficially) vie for my time and daily allotments of time.
All in all things are going well. Roommate situation is not bad. School is getting better (only to get worse with three major papers coming up in short order, two tests in the last two days, and another coming up next week), and life feels a little more manageable.
Side Note: What is with all the bizarre theatre people in my classes this semester? I have at least two where they dominate the class make-up and I feel like I'm losing my mind. I know I've taken it to the bad place when I feel like I'm wasting time by not spending free time discussing the nuances of Shakespeare's words and Aristotle's theories as they relate to actors on the stage. WTF?
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