Wednesday can be described by one word: exhausting. 5 classes with one long afternoon break, consumed with last minute attempts at homework and pre-class-presentation jitters. I was up until 10 p.m., editing the first short-fiction piece I’ve ever pumped out in years  for my Short Fiction class, which has since been fed to my classmates for next week’s  scheduled “slam fest”–or…er, critique. 

Thursday morning was marked by a wrap shirt malfunction–the tie on my cotton pink shirt was hanging out of my car door and floating along University Blvd, until a nice man yelled from his window “Your dress is dragging the street!”

After an hour of class, I returned home with an e-mail from an Editor with a long list of departments and article ideas for their next issue. I spent the afternoon making notes on it, watched Hitchcock’s “Marnie” and slept right through the time I’d allotted to catching up with sources and other editors.

This morning a gaggle of nightmares disrupted my sleep, the campus transit Jag Tran pulled away just as I was racing to catch it, my art teacher made us work in small groups (read: pain in the arse), I endured late afternoon hiatus hernia pains, and my favorite pair of H/M sunglasses purchased in New York snapped in half.