Today I mostly registered for classes at the University of Kentucky. ("Mostly" because I'm waitlisted--at the top of the list, so I'm pretty confident I'll get in--for one additional course I'd like to take.) I might be wrong about the exact numbers, but I believe that means I can now say I've attended the four largest colleges in the Commonwealth; UofL, Western, KCTCS, and UK. I can say it, but I don't expect to often. And that's not even mentioning the semester at my hometown college.
I was surprised to learn that I've actually busted 90 hours. So Gwenda is totally dating a senior. And not the kind that gets the discount at Cracker Barrel, even!
I'm happy to finally be taking classes that mostly involve people talking about, to take two of my courses for example, Geoffrey Chaucer and James Baldwin instead of classes that involve people talking about parking and how many visits twenty bucks will get at Tan Shack. (Fingers crossed.)
As I do with every link she posts, I followed a pointer off G's blog and found this essay by Tod Goldberg questioning whether writing can be taught. I don't know why, but I find this sentence hysterical:
You can tell a person what makes up strong dialog, but that doesn't mean they'll ever figure out how to write it without it sounding like two people pumping each other for information.