And Then You Go to Summer School

So… This week I started summer school. I’m finishing up the last few papers for my degree, and so I had free reign to pick whatever I liked. 

I chose anthropology and philosophy for this semester. I’m a sucker for the ologies and the super-smart-sounding subjects.

It’s two days in and my brain is already melting. I’ve a short story on hold – just can’t decide on the ending – and two poems. I began writing one, and it got so long-winded and not at all what I was trying to convey, that I gave up. No, I put it on hold. Right now it’s a scribbled thing, torn off the pad of paper, and it has various pieces crossed out and written over.

I can’t remember the last time I planned out a poem. Normally the words are there and I copy a neater, more polished version into my journal. I wanted to fit the story to the Weekly Writing Challenge, and I wanted to post one of the poems today. Oh, I’ve got a second in the planning stage – if you can call a scrawled line inside a wavy pink box planned, and that was just for the sake of not forgetting the idea.

It’s ironic. Yesterday I read a chapter and remembered heaps of it, and when the lecture was on I sat there, thinking, “yup, yup, I know this.” And yet I barely remember the story ideas I write down. Usually it’s the other way around, and the reading is two or three times.

The poem is depressing to look at. It has check marks of the things that fit my intent, and big X’s over the things that don’t. Murphy won a battle today: I ordered a textbook online. The courier came today, only I couldn’t sign for it because I wasn’t there. So now I have to wait until Saturday.

I don’t do well with waiting.

The days are also a source of confusion: I really thought today was Friday. Mum corrected me – it really is Thursday.

I blinked away the confusion and made a coffee. 

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