I know the "Cabbage Patch" (C'mon, you know. The little dance where you move your arms in a circle in front of your chest?) met its demise yeeears ago but, dang, I felt like doing the Cabbage Patch when I walked out of the door of my Creative Writing class Monday. I know you guys probably get really tired of hearing about that, but it's a major source of anxiety for me. And this is a web log (a.k.a. journal), so this is where I vent about that class the most.

So my point is that my critique went well. Everybody but the girl "that likes a lot of, like, scattered discourse and stream-of-conciousness stuff" liked what I had written. And my professor says, "Evocative portrayal of age and the discarded which links so well to Edna. I want to know what's driving her to this."

Nice. Cabbage Patch it on home for me.