I wrote a Petrarchan Sonnet the other day. It was an assignment in the Development of Poetry and Poetics class I am taking. Naturally prosody--form, meter, and rhythm are to be emphasized. The structure of this course is such that we will have a poem to turn in (along with copies of it for all classmates, of which there are 8) every other week. We will also be doing a lot of reading and listening to the instructor lecture and enjoy the sound of his own voice. It's not so bad.

Contemporary American Writers is set up much the same way that 20th Century World Literature was--three papers, two of them due during the course of the semester, the third due at the final class meeting.

All of that to say that I have already scoped out the deliverables that I have for each class and put the due dates for each in my Bad Girl's 2005 appointment book. I'll leave here in about 45 minutes to go over to the campus store to buy my text books (pay day is nearing, and I'll be able to float a check till Monday).

Nothing else to report, except that I am quickly approaching p. 500 in AK and have been enjoying a series of e-mail exchanges with a classmate of mine who is a Russian Literature expert. She is also in my poetry workshop group (that was a class last semester). The action for one of the characters is at the pinnacle, and my heart is won over by Tolstoy's genius, and the deft skill of his translator.