May 06, 2004 :: 4:50 p.m.
chipmunks make the world a happier place
Damn, it's nice out. Like, way too nice to go to Creative Writing tonight. Is that a valid excuse for not being there? Something like, "Dear Prof. Wallace - I was distracted by the gorgeous weather. It struck a chord in my soul and I could do nothing all evening but write, write, write! Please do forgive my absence; it was three hours snatched away by late spring's muse. Sincerely, Amanda." See, because if I'm absent for artistically-productive reasons, it's not so bad. Right? Come on, guys. Throw me a bone here.
We have to give readings in class tonight, hence the really not wanting to go. I as much as told him last week that I may, in fact, "come down with something" and be sadly absent tonight. That's how much I don't want to be there. I TOLD my teacher that I'd probably lie and stay home. To his face. Without any pause at all. This is sad, I know, but I'm just getting so tired of pretending to be interested. I loved this class last semester; now I can hardly stay awake through it. And tonight's forced readings are just the icing on the cake for me, of course.
Because... okay, let me spell this out very clearly. I am taking Creative Writing, but I do not want to be a writer. I love to write (well, I used to anyway), but I don't have any aspirations of making a living at it. I think maybe I could, but I don't particularly want to. So I have no plans to give readings, or try to get things published, or even let anyone other than the wee gnomes that live inside my computer read all the things that I may write. I do not desire "the writing life." It's a hobby, something I do just because I enjoy doing it. I don't want or need to practice giving readings.
Public speaking is my worst fucking nightmare. I have the self-esteem of a bug that's been squished and then flushed down the toilet. I can speak quite eloquently at times, but when I'm standing up in front of a group of people you may as well just slap on the dunce cap and write "STOOPID" on my forehead with a Sharpie. My face gets red, my mouth dries up, I stutter and stumble over my words. It's a disaster. And reading my own work is just... well, take that worst nightmare, make me naked, and dump in a pack of screeching bats and a bucket of millipedes and spiders and you'll come close to the appropriate level of horrific. I don't want to be a writer. I don't want to give readings. My dream job is me, alone in an office with a computer and as little human interaction as possible. WHY do I need to give a fucking reading???
Because the universe enjoys making me suffer. I'm quite sure of it. Prof. Wallace quite enjoys it as well, I've become convinced. There will be no cookies baked for the final class this year. Nope. Not only do I dislike and/or not care about all of three people in the class, but I am being forced to stand up in front of everyone and read things that are explicitly meant to be read to oneself, in private, away from the perpetual self-doubt of the extremely nervous and paranoid author.
GAH. Please kill me. Do it now.
I'll probably go, though. I haven't missed the class yet this semester, but for some reason I just can't convince myself to make good on my threats to "fall ill." Don't know why. Kind of makes me mad at myself.
In less frustrating news, I finished up week 6 of my running program this morning. A 25 minute run. I'm proud to say that it was not so much of a problem as I thought it might be. I even had enough energy left to speed up for a bit near the end, which is impressive for me. I'm pretty slow. It's the whole short legs thing. My stride just isn't very long.
I really like running at Wildwood - it's a lot easier on the legs, and the scenery is undeniably better than what I see running around my neighborhood. Today I saw two chipmunks, a bunch of squirrels, a groundhog, a snake, a one little bird that ran alongside me for about 30 seconds before fluttering away. One of the chipmunks did the same thing (minus the fluttering away part, of course). Chipmunks are the cutest things ever in the entire world. No contest at all. The groundhog ran across the trail in front of my and then into a bush and down into a hole of some sort. He was puffy and adorable. The snake was the coolest thing, though. I thought it was a root at first, but then it, you know, was moving. It was skinny and green and I very nearly stepped on it, but stopped just short of where it was slithering across the trail. I watched it go into the grass and under a bush and then disappear altogether. It was neat. I love me some aminals. Even snakes. I actually like snakes a lot. And mice, and rats, and possums - pretty much rodents of all kinds. I've been told that's a bit odd. But dude, they're cute. I don't get why anyone is afraid of mice anyway. It's not like the plague is still an issue.
Anyway, I'm going to start making dinner. Class in T-1.5 hours. Yes, I'm going. Stupid sense of academic duty. I hate me.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005