I'm one week in and one fourth of the way through my summer semester. I'd love to tell you it's going brilliantly. I won't, because that would be lying. I'd love to tell you about my painting class, and how it's kicking my ass. I'd love to tell you how I keep telling people it feels like I've been given a fast car because that's a lot nicer than saying I've been pushed to the edge of the nest and told to fly. I'd love to tell you about my attempt at copying a Van Gogh or my living sculpture/painting project, or the portrait of Teddy Roosevelt that I'm already a day behind on. I'd love to tell you about my awesome personality class and the totally interesting book. I'd love to tell you about my stats class and the 5 kinds of inferential analysis.
I'd love to tell you about the people I'm getting to know or all the hours I'm spending doing "academic stuff." I'd love to tell you everything.
But, I won't.
I had about 3 hours sleep last night an very few breaks today. It's almost midnight and reasonably I should be up in 8 hours.
So, I won't tell you all about it.
But I will ask you to wish me luck.
