It's been a minute

since I posted last.

Sorry about that.

But I am currently in the process of dying.

School is overwhelming.

Work is overwhelming.

Life is overwhelming.

I was trying to wade it out for a while,

but now I'm just sort of submerged in it all.

However, I may be starting a new project with a photo friend? 

So that is exciting.

I'm really looking forward to it, so I hope it works out.

Also, I'll be starting research for my professor soon, which is really cool.

And he's letting me double up the work as a final project for him.

So that is fantastic.

And the kid I tutor totally checked out a couple of workbooks from the literacy center's library, and is studying at home on his own.

Not that I had anything to do with it, but it is pretty freaking awesome, and it made me reaaaal happy today to hear that.

New words soon. I promise.

I've been writing a teensy tiny bit, and hopefully I'll get that all pounded out and edited and up here within the next few days.

Until then, I've decided to just stop sleeping? 

Maybe then I'll have time for everything I need to get accomplished?

Yes, yes.

Sounds like a plan.

So, strong coffee, STAT! 

Annnnnd back to it...

AMAZING.

Particularly love the Obama reference.

<3<3<3

Being all scholarly, and shit.

So today, my modern American poetry prof 

ASKED ME TO ASSIST HIM WITH A BOOK HE IS WRITING.

HOLY COW.

MACKEREL.

BANANAS.

RANDOM WORDS.

a;FHJASDKJGSdfadsfgjhadfgh!

Future doctoral dream come true.

He also said that after this project, he'd be willing to write one of my doctoral recommendation letters. 

WHICH IS A HUGE DEAL.

And he flattered me with all sorts of scholarly compliments, about my observant remarks in class, and how I exhaustively and intricately analyze the poems we read, and how I was the first person he wanted to offer the position to.

EEP!

I haven't officially accepted yet.

I'm still weighing my options.

(yeah, right.)

Too full

And my drawers are too full

of loose laundry.

Shirts I never wear,

but can't bear to part with.

Layers of others' outerwear,

from men I haven't seen in years.

But still, I fold them.

Just like I'll fold you in with them,

when this covering becomes too worn,

and the holes no longer suit the standards 

of respectability,

or my taste.

But occasionally,

when it's cold out,

I'll slip you over my sleep skin.

And spend the night wrapped warm

in what's left of us.

March

This winter has been plenty cold,

and long enough --

the daffodils felt it when they began to bloom

last month.

And along the path I walk to work,

green grass forcing its way 

through the cracks in the bricks 

gives me hope.

Walden's Pond my ass.

So I am back from the mountains.

We camped two nights, and hiked a little bit.

It was pretty, peaceful, serene, blahblahblah.

And I am cranky as all get out.

Whatever happened to nature soothing the weary soul, inspiring the tired mind, and nurturing creativity?

Bullshit.

Those transcendentalists were all wrong.

My brain and abilities are just as muddled as they were before I left.

But hey, I made it down the Blue Ridge Parkway without even a HINT of motion sickness, and I even managed to finish a book on the drive home!

THAT HAS NEVER HAPPENED IN MY LIFE.

MY ENTIRE LIFE.

So the score stands:

Laura:2! 

Stupid frail, fragile body: 2,342,438,656,273,i42,134,102,986,578,452aaflasjfhadg;A!

But look! Look! I'm catching up!!

A slump.

I'm in one.

: /

Someone send me a writing prompt.

I need some motifuckingvation.