I Can’t Even

I wrote the original first sentence of this blog post while I was standing outside a lecture theatre, waiting for 12 pm to come around. It was originally about the strangeness of attending a literature class in the engineering building.

Flash forward eight hours. I survived a long break between classes by finishing the book I’d been reading. I survived sitting horrifyingly close to a scary, swearing, clearly not right woman while confined in a train carriage with no escape. That’s what today felt like: I survived it, and it’s finally coming to an end. Now I just need to survive this 20-page French reading and I can go to bed early.


In the words of Maureen Johnson, most problems can be solved by fuzzy sheep (and puppy dogs).



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