not falling down

A few hours of finagling on my part, and voila–I am no longer a Music Writer (ie desperately out of my depth) but aCreative Writer (ie out of my depth with water wings). It’s only the second day of classes and already I’m causingtrouble. Sue me!

My thoughts on MUS 124, yesterday, went quickly from “Hey, it’s cool, he’ll adjust for different skill levels” to”SHIT! HEADLIGHTS!” Dr. Bitensky’s idea of “little experience” and mine are rather different, I’m afraid. I would haveloved to hang out and jam, play some percussion, and learn about writing music; the class as set up,unfortunately, was more like writing a whole lot of music right now. I could theoretically have gotten throughit, but I’d rather wait until next year and take an entry-level theory class. I think I’ll get the same benefit, andprobably a much better grade.

So this morning I trailed my roomies to ENG 280 and, though the guest prof is a bit of an odd anatida, hada lot of fun. The ensuing paper chase to get myself transferred was mostly boring, cold and stressful, but suffice itto say that there are some pretty helpful people on this campus and some really unhelpful ones. I’ve said it before,I’ll say it again: fuck the Registrar.

Now I’m going to write a story about barf on a t-shirt. Whee!