Weekly Woes (I save Vociferous Victories for when I'm Home home)

Hey Michelle. 'Sup. I've decided that Friday afternoon will henceforth be the time for me to vent my Weekly Woes. The big woe for this week is that I actually have the afternoon to vent my Weekly Woes. If, for instance, there was no tutor meeting this afternoon, I would be on my way Home home right now. Home home is my way of saying that I'm returning to the abode in which I was raised. Home is just going back to Mor Mor's. Anyway, since there in fact is tutor meeting this afternoon, I'm stuck at school for the four hours between work and more work.

Today, there was a tour that came to the WC, whose teacher was mean. She told Gwen that she'd rather a tutor didn't lead the tour, because all the tutors do is get "flustered" and "forget the most important things". I mean, it's true, really, but if the woman had any tact she'd be sensitive enough to at least say it without me sitting right there.

I need your help. I started classes this week, one of which was Creative Writing. The teacher is cool but a bit awkward, and the student body is as demographically diverse as is humanly possible. This means that the first class was ample time to get into the Twilight debate, since we have a few vehement Twilight fanfictioners and at least one extremely vehement anti-Twilighter. Not being one to sow dissension, I kept my mouth shut as to where my loyalties lie, even though it's only a matter of time before it all must come out in the open (i.e. when I'm required to peer review Twilight fanfiction, at which time I will tear it to pieces). The teacher didn't even know what fanfiction is, though. Don't worry, he was hastily informed.

But that's not what I need your help with. The fist half of the semester, the class is going to be focusing on poetry. Reading it and writing is and such. And I'm required, over this time, to write at least a hundred lines of poetry (divided into five or so actual poems).

AND I AM TERRIFIED.

I am terrified out of my mind. I don't even know the first thing about poetry, or where to start. I'm the sort of person who removes myself from the sort of people who write poetry! (except you, my dear) This is going to be very difficult. I'm going to need any creative and practical pointers I can get. Should it rhyme? Should it not rhyme? Is it too emo? Does it read like prose? What are acceptable subjects? Can it be funny? I'm not very good at funny, but I could try my hand at it and see what comes out. I'm related to you, aren't I? Mere association with you should improve my poetry-writing skills.

No matter whether you go to Mor Mor's with Mom and Dad or not, I'm coming home tonight. I'm a Home homesick little girl. Right now, I'm drowning my sorrows in a medium Americano. It is good. Almost as good as vodka, which is generally what people end up drowning their sorrows in.

Aaand I just spilled some. Well, it was bound to happen sometime.

-Amy