There's so much I want to write about. My grandfather; my trip to Biola; marriage; writing. But I just don't have the time.

I have another ninety-four pages of "Mrs. Dalloway" to read, a five-page short story to revise, and revise, and try to twist into something halfway okay, and a five to seven page English paper that I haven't started, due in six days.

We've hit that point. That part in the semester where nobody really has a lot of energy anymore, nobody really cares that much about school anymore, and every assignment seems like just a little more than we can handle on any kind of normal sleep schedule.

By this time next week, I'll have time to write and blog and think about life again. But right now, I have no choice but to compartmentalize. I can't think about flowers for the wedding; I just have to get this work done.

The Challenge

So often when I write, especially on my blogs, everything is "me, me, me". It's kind of hard for it not to be that way. Earlier I was writing in my creative writing journal, and I noticed how many times I use the word "I" or "me"; "I thought," "I said," "as I was doing this," etc., etc. Man, if I was someone else reading my journal, I'd probably get bored. After all, my day-to-day life isn't that fascinating.

For this challenge, I'm going to write exclusively in the third person for one week. This challenge applies to my blog only (though obviously not to this entry), excluding "Wedding Thoughts" (how would that work?).

I'm just tired of only thinking in one way, of only looking at the world and other people through my narrow lens. We'll see what happens.

The Saints of April

Today's featured poem on "The Writer's Almanac."

I think it's beautiful.

The Saints of April

by Todd Davis

Coltsfoot gives way to dandelion,
plum to apple blossom. Cherry fills
our woods, white petals melting
like the last late snow. Dogwood's
stigmata shine with the blood
of this season. How holy
forsythia and redbud are
as they consume their own
flowers, green leaves running
down their crowns. Here is
the shapeliness of bodies
newly formed, the rich cloth
that covers frail bones and hides
roots that hold fervently
to this dark earth.

Diabetes Repair, I guess

Well, it finally happened.

As I'm sitting at my desk last night, getting ready to settle into working on a World Lit paper that's due tomorrow, I look down at my Macbook and notice a half-circle crack one on corner of it's white surface. The crack branches out and snakes its way almost all the way across the bottom of edge of my laptop, leaving a loose piece on one end that I can wobble easily.

I say "finally" because I have on a number of occasions dropped my backpack while my laptop was inside, or it's slid off of the seat and landed on the floor of my car with a thud while I was driving. Yesterday morning, as I was getting ready to go to my first class, I slung my backpack off of my shoulder and intended to set it gently on the tile floor. It slid out of my hand half-way there, though, and hit the floor, making me wince because I knew my laptop was inside. That impact must have done it, because I hadn't noticed these cracks before last night.

My mom isn't sure if my laptop is still covered under warranty. The only thing to do is take it into the Apple Store and see what can be done.

Sorry, little Mac.