Oh, hey school.

Last week, I joined the 20-Something Blogger community (soyoushouldbemyfriendthereifyouaren'talready!) and was very excited. 

"Hooray!" I thought to myself, "A new chance to blog more, find new bloggers and help people find me!" 

So, what do I do? Neglect my few readers for about a week because of the stress excitement of starting classes and getting back to school. So, that's what this entry is going to be about. How stressed excited I am to be back at school taking twelve credits of English courses.

At first, I thought twelve credits would be nothing. To get out of college in four years is quite a feat, especially if you change your minor as much as I did, and to do so I averaged nineteen credits a semester for four years. Twelve, schmelve, I can handle that. 

Pause not. I'm very glad the English professor I spoke to about my course load this semester told me not to pile on that extra British literature class. I think she used the term death wish. 

I was a communications major. Our semesters started gradually and we only really started to get stressed at the end of the semester when we suddenly realized that we still only had fifteen computers for the entire department to do their final projects on. The semester leading up to editing in Final Cut while standing on your head and working in Dreamweaver with your toes was typically pretty simple. 

Apparently, English majors have it a bit more difficult. I guess that's because they assume you can read right off the bat. I rented a small fork lift to get my books out of the book store. Moll Flanders? You're due next Thursday. Weekly re-reads of favorite childhood classics are due weekly and I'm going to D.C. (Inauguration weekend? Good plan!) for my women in arts and lit class on Friday, missing my first quiz in into to lit study. This is going to get really interesting. 

Luckily for me, I'm addicted fond of caffeine and my ability to all-nighter it up seems to be creeping back to me slowly. I didn't take a sub job today so I can settle myself and not feel like I've been run over by a Mack truck full of syllabi. Syllabusses? Being hit by a sylla-bus?! Awesome.

I promise, I won't write a review of Moll Flanders or require you to participate in any more of my scholastic horrors. (Or any more of my puns...maybe...) I just needed to pop in and explain why I have sucked at blogging in this past week and shamelessly promote myself as a new member to the 20-Something Blogger community. 

Now. Back to British prostitutes.