Readings

I'm terrible at keeping up with a blog. I have it bookmarked and everything, just staring back at me. Sorry, big guy. I write a lot every day. Just not on my blog.

I have 2 more days of class, and I'm being workshopped in my poetry class tomorrow. I hate writing poetry. I mean, I really hate it. I never think it's any good, because poems can be written in 2 minutes. It takes me longer to write this than a poem. That's not right. I've always felt that anytime I write a poem for class, all my professors go apeshit over it. I consider it a borderline insult, only because I know I can do better. When they tell me it's really good, it's almost patronizing.

Tomorrow we're sharing from our journals in class. One entry. And then tomorrow night, we're sharing something we've written in front of everyone. While the rest of the group is worried and nervous about sharing, my atention whore side kicks in and thinks 5 minutes isn't enough. I want more time. I love performing.

What I want to read is my short story. But our professor's 8 year old son will be in the audience. I don't want to be the prick to drop F-bombs in front of the little kid and scar him for life. I'll do that to my own children. So now I'm stuck.

Only a few more days left in Manchester. Rain. Hopefully it stays warm in France and Germany. Less to pack.

4 days till Trever. 71 days down.

Cheers

S