My Epic Fail

It was time to go to Academic Writing. I packed all my materials, rechecked the schedule for the room number, and puttered all the way over to Smiddy Hall. I filed into class with about 12 other people, and my strange professor (clothed in a floor length, maroon velvet dress and crazy hair) extolled on the virtues of writing and about herself for twenty minutes. Then, she handed out the syllabus. 

On the top of that syllabus, read "Poetry I."

FAIL.

Somehow, I had managed to go to 114 instead of 115. Somehow. 

Luckily, my writing professor found my story hilarious, and e-mailed me a copy of the syllabus that I will actually use. 

On the other hand, I had my first spanish 202 class after 1.5 years off, and felt a little rusty. 

Journalism Research, as Professor Loop announced to the class, is the weed-out class for the major. Some students have published their final projects (edited down from the 20,000 words it requires) in actual magazines. But Professor Loop is pretty awesome. I plan to strategically arrange to have him as a Professor for the rest of my life. Maybe.

Today was also rush for the television station, and I resigned up for the Inquirer, where host Greg looked at my application sheet critically and said, "We shall consider your application, but you know we're very selective." But of course I'm on the crew again. Job description? Not so sure. 

I also signed up to audition for on-screen for several shows. I'm already nervous. My SportsFinal audition is next Thursday, and I have to do this crazy prep work that I will describe at a later date. 

Tomorrow is the Ithacan rush, which I will attend but don't really have to. Because they pretty much own my soul anyway. 

All in all, I am really glad this day is over. 

It was a long one.