It’s weird how when you’re away from your campus for so long and you finally roll into familiar stomping grounds, you feel like you never left. It seems like a dumb and cliché thing to say, but there’s something about being dropped from one familiar place (home) to another familiar place (school) that erases what little shock value might want to rear its ugly head.

Maybe it’s because I wanted to come back to school more badly than ever before, but I’m not having a hard time tucking summer into closets and chests. I’m still a little shell-shocked, though. I think it might have something to do with knowing that this is my last year here. I made this place my home more than real home, and not being here just sounds…wrong.

My school isn’t very nice to its upperclassmen, so I moved in on Saturday – which is a bitch when you live on the third floor with NO elevator – and started classes this Monday. I think maybe it’s to try and limit our Welcome Week to Welcome Weekend.

Like I told you guys last time, I’m playing the catch-up game, so I’ve got twenty credits this semester… and 16 next semester? Not sure how that one’s gonna work, what with my school only giving 4-credit courses, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. That’s five classes. Still, it’s nowhere near as bad as it sounds. There’s an ass-crack of dawn class (really, it’s only 8:30, but if the sun is still in the east it’s too early for me) that only has six people in it, a general psychology class STOCKED with freshmen (more on that later), an acting class that I can already see is going to be my chill-class, a colonial American Literature class with a professor who loves to hear himself talk, and an advanced poetry class that I still haven’t taken and I’m a little worried about. Read More »