Augury

My first day of classes have made me confident that I will be able to achieve the diligence and academic excellence that I have never before pursued with anything resembling fervor. My creative writing class should not be difficult, and promises to improve my ability-- if not by instruction, then by practice alone.

I was late to this, my first class--an inauspicious beginning to a quarter for which I hold such high hopes. I suppose I could be blamed for simple absent-mindedness; my brother's bike had flat tires, which I realized as I loaded it onto the back of the truck back home. A more meticulous mind might have remembered that this, the main mode of transportation, was unuseable. Mine is not a meticulous mind. I had to walk it about a block to the nearest air fill station. Thankfully, Davis is a bicycle town, and has many such facilities. I was ten minutes late. I suppose if I'd dragged my ass out of bed when my alarm went off instead of hitting the snooze [who knows?] times, I might have been on time... Oh well.

The professor teaching my creative writing class also teaches my Short Story lecture. She is an energetic young woman, playful and friendly, with a tendency toward unusual similes and random bits of floral language. She smiles, which is nice. She's not yet had the life drained from her. It strikes me as important to make a good impression upon her, because she holds two of my grades in her hand. With the careful effort I am putting into my classes this quarter, this should not be a terribly difficult task. I only need to make a point of contributing during lecture.

I have found that once a teacher is convinced that I am brilliant, I need not put as much effort into my work. This is not the goal, but its nice having people assuming my work is good, rather than wondering just how painful it will be to read.

My third class is 18th Century British Literature. The reading will be the most difficult, due soley to the overwhelming quantity. My schedule shows at least two hundred pages of reading a week, sometimes more-- a total of five novels packed into three months. Heaven help those who miss a day of reading. This class has an interesting dynamic of its own. The professor taught my Medieval Literature course last quarter, and I was noticeably absent and behind for most of the quarter. She says she knows my potential, and understands that I was dealing with...issues... I was going to drop the class because I'm not particularly fond of her teaching style, but part of me wants to prove that last quarter was nothing near representative of me, my habits, or my ability. She has no way of knowing my potential, unless she has read papers for other classes.

She is friendly and seemed genuinely pleased that I was in her class again. I think my pride will spur me toward excellence, if my determination alone fails.

I am also taking a Late Shakespeare course, which I took once, but sacrificed for the sake of my other classes. Because it is the same professor, and the same course, I am well ahead of other students. I have already done most of the reading, know what the quizes and tests look like, and what to look for while rereading the texts. There is no excuse for anything lower than an A.

I am working only Tuesdays and Thursdays now, from 8 to 5, with a short break to attend my Shakespeare class. Last quarter, I worked Monday through Friday from 2 to 5, and while the short shifts were more bearable, the scheduling made homework difficult. I had classes from 10 to 2, then work til five. After work, I would take time to relax and unwind, and then either go to Kendo or make dinner. At that point, I am not in any mood to work. It was unpleasant, and resulted in many late nights.

This quarter, I am working during "dead time", or time that I would have wasted if I was not obligated to be working. My morning would have extended to 1:20 pm. Why not be productive and make money? All I need to do is stop dicking around on the internet and actually go to bed at a reasonable hour.

My, what a long post.