Gross. I started classes yesterday. Fuck shitticky fuck fuck. I wasn't ready for it. But it's one of those things you just can't prevent, you know? Oh, well, classes seem to be okay this semester. Lots of:
a) architectural professors dripping in condescension
b) sitting next to the boy that belongs to another girl but that I can't seem to get over (silly me, he's not really Edward Cullen, he just reminds me of him)
c) other crap that makes each day a typical day in the life of a college kid.
Right now I'm listening to Motion City Soundtrack, my foolproof fall-back music. It means I need to get new music. I love Justin Pierre & Co. so much, though, it's hard for me to stay away long.
In Creative Writing class, we have to write a story in 6 words, due Monday. Ridiculously hard. The example we were given was one from Hemingway, where he told this epic-ly sad story about baby shoes that were never worn. I'm not gonna live up to that one. But here are some ideas:
1) First, glory; second, disgrace; third, impeached.
2) Illustrious star, "Here, try Heroin," tragedy. (This one is a tribute to Heath Ledger, who shockingly and tragicly died yesterday of a drug overdose, which was not necessarily Heroin. I can't get his death out of my celebrity-obsessed mind.)
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