So, yeah, it's the end of March and I haven't posted since New Year's Eve. *sigh* I apparently still fail at blogging.
But I really have been pretty busy. I'm taking FOUR Lit classes and a French class this semester, and OMG there's a lot of reading!! It's hard to keep up with all of it. And I seem to be a glutton for punishment, because I'm taking four Lit classes AGAIN next fall. On the plus side, I think they'll be fun classes--I'm taking Young Adult Lit, Studies in American Lit, American Lit I, and Shakespeare. The professor who'll be teaching Young Adult Lit told me I could get a reading list from him so that I can get a head start on the class over the summer, and I think I can do the same thing for at least a couple of my other classes.
I've also been working on The Rook, which is the college's literary journal, as copy editor. It's a lot more time-consuming than I thought it would be, but I'm quite pleased with how it turned out, and can't wait to see the finished product. Dave's poem, "Ticket to Ride..." is in it! :-) I've apparently impressed the Editor-in-Chief enough that he's recommended me to several people for work, among them The Retort (the college's newspaper) and Billings365.com (a local nightlife blog).
On top of that, I had a couple of my professors approach me about an internship doing some writing and/or editing for the League of Conservation Voters--apparently I'm their FIRST choice for this internship! I've never really thought of myself as a good writer, but evidently someone thinks I am! lol AND, yesterday, I also got an email saying that one or more of my professors had nominated me for the Ivy Guard, which is a group of 50-70 women undergraduates who have a 3.25+ cumulative GPA and have contributed to college life, who line the aisle during the graduation ceremony. I'm quite honored that my profs think I've made sufficient contributions to merit being part of the ceremony.
I suppose I should get back to my homework, so I'll leave you with a silly poem I wrote and a promise to write again soon, with pictures!
"Write a poem," they told her.
She didn't quite know how.
Something about meters and feet,
And don't forget the rhyme.
But wait! Not all poems rhyme,
Nor use iambs all alike.
"What shall I write?" she asked,
Strangely lost for words.
"Write what you know," they said.
So she looked, and wrote
Of work, and kids, and school,
And roads not yet taken.
Finally she was done,
And held the story of a life
With its irregular forms
And said that it was good.