Boarded a bus at quarter to eight that was full to the brim and zoomed, zoomed, zoomed to campus for the 8:30 class way down in the bowels (there's that word again) of the computer labs in the Clearihue. I feel like writing a book but instead I'll go to my technical writing class, hang out with Samara afterward, and then go to Bill Gaston's novel techniques class.
I feel like a broken doll this morning that's only operating on Neutral Milk Hotel music. Not nearly enough sleep and I went to bed early because of an early class and the fact that I didn't have any energy last night.
Thinking about a rewrite for the three-day novel; I don't know how much time I'll have to work on because I have to get a good draft done for my first fiction workshop and I also have to research Ploughshares literary magazine and report back a string of information next week. Each one of us has to do a different magazine.