Suicidally Intense

My summer class is called “80 Works” and it meets on Tuesday and Thursday nights from yesterday until the last week of July. That means that each of us in the class is responsible for writing 80 new things in about seven weeks. The professor described the course in an email to a classmate using the term you see as the title of this post. But even though I tend to freak out under pressure like this, it’s a really good kick in the pants. Today I wrote two limericks and an epigram, due for class tomorrow.

I think the most complicated part of the class is actually going to be the deciphering of the syllabus and various other handouts. Some manner of organizational system might be called for here.

But I was talking to Dad tonight (hi, Dad), and even though I seem to be feeling a little overwhelmed by all that this summer has in store, it really only breaks down to three things: 1) class; 2) read/study for the EXAM on August 4th; 3) the seeking and buying of our new home (and with luck, or perhaps a little bit of nagging, I’ll actually have a partner in that third thing). See, it’s all very simple. Unless the class turns out to be as intense as indicated… but that has yet to be determined. It mostly just sounds like fun stuff that I won’t mind working on, even if there is a lot of it.

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