I once took an english class...

So it comes the time when i have to write about the class, and write i will. When i started the class i was not sure what to expect. I loved my two previous English classes, yet they were different in their approach and focus. This time was no different from the rest, yet it was. Throughout the semester i was thought about literature, poetry, drama, and many more things.

I learned about detail, seeing between the lines. Uncovering the meanings behind hidden in plain sight. Of character, of plot, of devices to enhance the work before me. I learned a great deal about many things when it comes to English, but also some things about myself. I am talking about the blog.

At first the idea of the blog both excited and annoyed me. I've always toyed with writing, yet deep down i knew my lazyness and procrastination would keep me from delivering my work on time. I was not wrong. I am sitting in the dinner while i write these words, mere minutes before the class starts. Its hard to teach an old dog new tricks. Still i write. For the last semester whenever the issue of the blog reared its head, my own was filled with infinite possibilities and ideas for it that never materialized. Whenever i did write for it i deeply enjoyed the experience, even if sometimes i would go back and delete my own work. I am not satisfied with the output, mostly because it what it could be. Even so, i like what i have done so far.

In the end this might not be quite what professor Candia or i wanted, but it is something alright. It is my hope that this is only the beginning. The spark needed to do more, yet sadly i know myself far too well. The future of the blog is uncertain, but its present is comforting. It is proof that a class can teach through unconventional means, and proof i can do something interesting if i at least try.