Vexen

Vexen pratically tripped into his classroom, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He was holding several folders and a textbook in his arms- he just didn't have room for them. Though he seemed composed, there was an awkwardness about him. "Good morning," He said calmly, a little put off by the lack of attendance. "Am I early?" He glanced at his watch. No...not early at all. He fought the urge to sigh. He put his books down on the table in the front of the room, and leaned against the podium. "I'll give everyone a few more minutes, and we'll begin..."

Things have kept quiet, low key. It's been fascinating watching everyone run around with their pretty little dramas, but I've avoided most of that. Not that I wouldn't mind dabbling in it.
Either way, I've developed a bit of a daily system in functioning. I've chatted casually with the creative writing professor, and he's lovely. However, he does seem to have a few things that he just can't shake from his psyche.
It's amazing, how functional one can be when they're drowning in dysfunction.

I haven't taken the time to introduce myself to anyone yet. Probably because they're next to impossible to keep up with. I'm wondering who will wind up in my classes, who will do well, who will drop out, who will pay their way through it, et cetera.
So, to everyone, if you have any questions concerning lectures or anything else (school related or not) please contact me in this manner.
Thank you, and goodnight!
-Professor Vexen