Mondays are long and ridiculous. I didn't get home from campus until 9.40 or something like that. But it's okay, because I heart All Campus Band. Seriously, might end up being my favorite class, after my poetry workshop, of course. I wish there was a better way for me to post poetry on here; I'd like to share it with you, get some feedback from different people. Got a great comment from Mike the other day, which was surprising, and somehow much more satisfying than the pretentious beings who call themselves poets in my 303 class. Minus Austin and Larkin, who are my saving graces. Good damn poets, and cool people to boot. And I get to talk about poetry all the time, which is great for me. I love my friends, every single one of you, but it's hard to have this passion for writing at a near boiling over point all the time, and have no one at whom to rant, because I don't want to turn you all off writing. So I can talk shop with at least one other poet into the wee hours of the morning and go to bed smiling as the sun comes up. Life is good right now, I think. Had a scare today. Left my binder full of my writings in my lit class this morning, and freaked out during criminal justice when I realized it was gone. Had to fight my way out of a lecture hall just to make sure it was still alive and okay. That no one had molested it. And, of course, it was safe. No safer place than Ballantine for a little folder full of poetry to be wandering around on its own. Lots of English majors there to make sure it got around safely, and not kidnapped. In the process of applying for Ireland study right now. *fingers crossed* But even if I don't get to go, I have a cool ass house next year. Mike, Michael, Dean, Jill, Erin. 416 South Lincoln. Come play with us. And wave at the cops that are a half a block away. Awesome! But I've got some poetry to tinker with right now. See you soon!