The Premature Burial

Is it Friday already? I guess it is.

School laid into me with a vengeance. The textbook price is high, the reading list long, and as usual, the class that I am most interested in is the one with the lightest workload. Folklore has already demanded I sacrifice 300 words to its insatiable maw, forcing me to summarize reading. Introduction to the New Testament has exacted two pages, double spaced, explaining what I expect from the course. In my capstone class, Democracy and the Liberal Arts (selected because it best fit my busy schedule as a stay at home dad), I must research and present an article appropriate for the subject. What is the subject? I honestly don't know, but my instructor doesn't seem to know either so I guess I'm in good company. I haven't even gone to ASL III yet, that one only meets on Mondays, and I already tremble for the time it will devour. In short, my days are filled with short response papers and blackboard posts allowing little room for cooking, housework, and time with my beautiful bride and young progeny much less blogging.

I love you all, you mostly silently approving masses that adore my work. I don't want to let you down, but until May I don't anticipate having much time to ramble about writing craft or the philosophies of entertainment. I am buried alive under academic busy work. Give me a few months and I promise I will return from this ivory crypt and, hopefully, write a book.

See you on the other side.