Storybook Ending

One of my top three books EVER is Little Children by Tom Perrotta. It is one of the best books I have ever read, and this weekend I decided to read it again. Usually, I try not to read the same book more than once a year. I keep a list... But I haven't been reading anything lately, so I figured it's better to re-read something than to read nothing at all.

I let my roommate read the blurb on the back of the book, and she said she wanted to borrow it when I was done. I just finished it, hugging it tight to my chest and mumbling how much I loved it, I would marry it if it asked me, etc. Then I tossed the book to my roommate on the couch, so she could start it.

Silence followed.

When I looked at her, she had the book lying horizontal in her hands, like a mouth. "Will you marry me?" she made the book ask me.

...I said Yes.

Out of Season

There's something deliciously contradictory about walking by a pool out of season. You're foolishly wearing a t-shirt and flip-flops, but the chlorine wafts into your nostrils and you have to stop and take a deep breath. The cold air fills your lungs and the chemicals make you lightheaded. You can't feel your fingers and your toes are tingling, but even when you're warm, back inside, you can't get that thought out of your mind - the night you jumped into the water, not two short months ago.

rowdy reindeer games

Sometimes I am pleasantly surprised by how smooth my life can be if I just...don't try. I am the type of person to worry over every little thing, and I have bad anxiety when things don't go exactly how they should (even though yes, I know it's usually more fun that way.)

This morning, I woke up at 8.49a for a 9.10a class. I've overslept for work this semester, strolling in fifteen minutes late, but have never been late to class. I didn't have time to get anxious about it, just feverishly hoped no one was sitting in my seat. Nothing sucks more than walking in late then standing awkwardly at the front of the classroom, scanning for an empty seat.

I dressed in record time (and look like I always do, which makes me wonder why I don't get dressed in fifty seconds every day) and was sitting in class just three minutes after it started. Amazing, no?

Then I had to go to the English building to turn in my paper mentioned in the previous entry. Found a parking spot in a nearby lot no problem. Only three other classmates had turned their paper in by that point. Heading back downstairs, I ran into my grant teacher. He's one that's writing rec letters for me, but it was also funny for another reason I won't get into here, that's a novel by itself. I shot him a clever line and felt immensely proud of myself.

Work has been nice. Both my boss and the art director are out today, and my supervisor left early to take a long weekend. It's quiet and slow here, and I'm completing my work at a leisurely pace, listening to music, wandering around when my head and butt start to hurt. Before she left, my supervisor gave me a pile of work to do.

"I saved this for you," she said, handing me a stack of artwork that was all verbiage. "I know you love words, so I thought you'd like these. Proofread them before you send them out for production." EXCITEMENT. I do love words, thanks for noticing. And I love searching for and correcting mistakes! And today, I have not been disappointed! The added bonus was that the art was cute and witty. Later, I overheard her telling a coworker, "I gave that art to Allison, because she has a sick sense of humor like that." Across the cubicle wall I yelled "I can hear you!" They grew silent.

But really, I was flattered.

General Prologue

In my Brit Lit class, we're studying Canterbury Tales. A creative paper is due tomorrow, in which we write a modern version of the general prologue. The teacher was very lax about it, and there were very few guidelines. Still, I wanted to challenge myself. I think I did a damn good job of that. I just finished it, and it is one hundred and twenty two lines of rhyming couplets. I am so proud. And I think it's really unique, so I'm hoping for a good grade.

I also emailed out my second story to be workshopped. As Prete requested, it's a 'lady story'. I'm really proud of it actually. I wrote a rough draft in May for Bausch's class; it was barely six pages. I took their comments from the workshop and made an outline. I thought about the story on my flight home this past weekend because I was stuck with my other two lady stories. I sat down yesterday night and made all the changes I wanted, and had two people read it. (Thanks Cat and Nick!) Their feedback helped so much, and now I feel really confident that I turned in a good story. I'm looking forward to the workshop next week so I can iron out anything else that needs to be fixed. I think this might be a piece solid enough to go with my applications.

Speaking of applications... Bausch agreed to write a letter of recommendation. When I think about it, I can't stop smiling. I'm going to meet with him Monday about it. SO EXCITED.

Back by popular demand

I think most people who blog want to have a loyal following, a horde of commenters who jump at new posts and just really enjoy reading what you have to write. I would like to announce I have that. If you've noticed, I haven't updated in over a week. I've been out of town and beyond busy with school and work, and honestly... I haven't had anything interesting to say. But someone let me know that each time they came to my blog hoping for a new entry, they were crushed to see the same ole title from last Monday at the top of the page. CRUSHED, did you see that? I was very flattered, and decided I must step up my blogging.

Does it still count if it was my brother?

I think it does. So hello, Frank! Have no fear, I have some hilarious travel stories to tell, and a whole bunch of writing stuff I'll probably get on tomorrow. Keep checking back for new titles.

I bet they won't be expecting that

Today I had my second poem workshopped. It went really well - for some reason I always end up laughing during my workshops. Last time it was because everyone read lesbian undertones in my poem, which were NOT there, promise. This time everyone thought the antagonist was a pedophile. This wasn't as far-fetched as the lesbian thing, but still, I think the main thing I love about poetry is that it can be interpreted a billion different ways. And the main thing I hate about poetry is that I never interpret it 'correctly'. I just don't get most of the poems we workshop...

We're all really open in that class now; we're speaking up and having actual discussions and being honest about each others' work. It usually takes a few weeks for workshops to loosen up. I'm not sure my fiction workshop will ever be there, a lot of those writers are genre writers and seem pretty uptight, for writing vampire rape fanfic. It's nice to have a joking discourse in poetry at least. For awhile we were taking everything pretty seriously, and it was really bringing me down. I can only take so much rhyming about dead aunties.

I have some really good feedback on how to improve this poem, so it'll definitely be one of the three edits we have to submit. One girl wrote that she liked how it was in the form of a poem, but really told a short story. At the bottom, between two stars, she wrote "you should be an author!" I'm going to be totally lame and keep that critique.