I'm perpetually running late.

So I was late to class... kinda long story. Shitty. Usually not a big deal. But when I got there, everyone was broken up into little groups all around the room, since apparently that's how we were workshopping poems today. SURPRISE. Obviously, when the instructor said "we're going to take a break from workshopping next week and do some lecturing," she meant we needed to bring in poems for small group work.

I wasn't the only one who came in late, though—three other guys came in after me and she was pissed. We had to create and rearrange a little group because she didn't want too many people together? Or something. There was, of course, confusion—there's always confusion because she's terrible at explaining what she wants, we've never done anything like this before, and, yes... when you have a class held in a building that is literally the farthest one away from campus (it's not even on the fucking maps posted around), you're bound to have people come late. An urban campus, nonetheless, with terrible parking downtown and the majority of its students commuters. Are you fucking kidding me? How surprised can you possibly be? I felt even shittier. I should've known better. "See, this is what happens when you come in late," she said. Yeah. Shittiest. To top that off, she decides that people who came in late have a paper and poem due on Monday. Well, that's lovely.

The rest of my day was better. Caught up with a bunch of friends today, got adjusted at the chiropractor, got stuff done.

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