along for the ride

on thursdays i will be at school from 8-5, which wouldn't be bad because that's like a regular job. but what makes it bad is that our entire day is spent in one of two windowless lecture halls. the first and last hours of the day are in the room with two-toned pink walls, and the middle 18 hours of the day will pass stagnantly in the room with grey walls. the teachers move around us as our butts (and brains) go numb. i mean really, a girl can only listen to so much pharmacology and pathophysiology before her mind liquefies. and no human should have to sit still for that long.
and also we only get 20 minutes for lunch.

i love reading on the bus. i love that i get time twice a day when that's really about the only thing i can do. right now i'm reading ernest hemingway's "a moveable feast" and completely loving it. yet i think that it may be largely responsible for my recent creativity crisis.
"...I knew too that I must write a novel. I would put it off though until I could not help doing it. I was damned if I would write one because it was what I should do if we were to eat regularly."
"How can a man write so badly, so unbelievably badly, and make you feel so deeply?"
"...sometimes, if the day was bright, I would buy a liter of wine and a piece of bread and some sausage and sit in the sun and read one of the books I had bought and watch the fishing."

i wish my bus route were longer.