Do You Want to Read My Diary?

I'm taking a writing workshop class this semester, and it honestly is one of my favorite classes. The professor is the sweetest old man: he brings cookies to class every day, he gives you a real dollar if you answer a question, and the writing he has us do is actually a lot of fun. But one of the assignments was that we had to keep a journal, writing at least three times a week.

My first mental image of this wonderful man reading my journal. 

We're having a portfolio review with the professor this week, and guess how many I actually have done? That's right, people. Absolutely zero.

Then I realized I needed to write 36 journal entries for tomorrow.

I figured the best way to give myself a crash course on the past 3 months of my life would be to stalk my own social media. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, the whole bit. Sorting through everything that has happened this semester was quite an experience! Basically, I'm a hot mess. I can't really go into the details right now, but once the dust has settled on everything, you can prepare to be amused.

However, I still have to show my professor a journal for tomorrow. But if I told him the real things I get myself in to, he honestly might have a heart attack. I would never be able to look at this man again. At the very least, I would be risking expulsion. Probably on several counts.

Such is life.