The reason I’m quiet this weekend — and there’s always a reason — is that I spent most of last week knee-deep in schoolwork, trying to catch up…and then hit this weekend, discovered I have an exam on Tuesday, and am now knee-deep again.
It’s exhausting stuff. I like the classes, and I like the material. It turns out I really, really dig anthropology. If I weren’t going to school for it, I think studying the field would have become a hobby.
But I hate quizzes and tests. Mostly due to a lack of self confidence. I always assume I know less than I actually know. Which is unfair to my own brain, which seems to retain things quite well (better than it lets on.)
So here I am, writing out an essay for each of five questions. Two of which will be my exam on Tuesday. Which two? Beats me.
The problem I’m running into is that, with this type of thing, I try to be succinct. Which means I’m delivering the information in much less space than is required. College definitely teaches you to woolgather, one realizes after spending a little time there.
It’s all fun and good until a test comes up and then I think “right, time to quit and go get a job making pizzas.”
You’ve probably read this previously. Or maybe you haven’t. But here is the wonderful and terribly cool Clive Barker talking about genre. Remarkably coherent and intelligent for being an impromptu speech. But then, anyone who’s listened to Clive Barker knows that coherent and intelligent are good descriptors of him.
I have three Dan Simmons, one Roger Zelazny, and one Harlan Ellison book, all waiting for me to read. I have a two novels waiting for me, and I have a short story that clicked into place two days ago and is ready to be written. I have submissions to send out.
Also, it’s very cold here. But that’s not much of a complaint, because I have this very warm pot of tea.
Okay. Back to the essay grind.