Can I Go Home Yet?

There is a big ass spider living in the un-co-ed washroom. I don't think he was there the first day. Probably hitched a ride over in someone's suitcase just so he could meet me. He's up really high, just hanging around, but very much alive because he likes to flex his legs at me. Leisurely like, just to let me know that he sees me seeing him. I told him I don't mind if he hangs out up there . . . but if he comes down on the floor, into the stall or shower, down the hall or anywhere near my closet . . . he will die. I think we've come to an understanding. I'm NOT bringing him home with me, though I'm sure the place will have a few buddies waiting for me when I get there.

I miss Sackville. Miss my bed. Oh God, I can't wait to get into my own bed with my own pillow! I may stay there a day or so, living off crackers and cheese because I will not have any energy to go buy food, watching fluffy television so I can drift in and out of sleep and it won't matter if I miss the ending or the beginning. I could totally handle a Cornation Street marathon! . . . And no, I'm not even kidding.

So, here I am -- it's Friday! I think my classmates picked up on a change in my posture or something, because a couple of them approached me earlier to tell me how engaged they are with my story and writing style, that I should continue and finish the novel. Hmmm. Maybe they read my blog. One of the guys actually suggested I should write poetry, which is something I've been thinking about but I'm reluctant to do because I don't know anything about it. He suggested I take Ross Leckie's class here at UNB . . . never going to happen, plus I'm not ready to move again yet. He thought that maybe I already was a poet because of how obscure, dense and tight my writing is . . . are these words positive feedback? I think tight is a good thing, but I'm being told I'm too tight and I just don't believe that's even possible. I think it's possible to write the one sentence, phrase or even word that says it all. I keep wondering what's happening in Sue Goyette's group. Are there as many fantasy genre writers in that group?

But I'm done wallowing in this muck. I'm doing what I'm doing and I'll continue to do it. End of story. I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining all the time or that I'm not having a good time or anything like that. I'm having a fantastic time! Closed the Taproom again last night. Didn't get to bed until almost 4 am. I have supper plans today. All is good in the world. I'm having these really interesting little episodes with the cab drivers who bring me back to the residence every night. But I see my time runs short, so I'll tell you about that later.

Mood: Hollow
Drinking: water
Listening To: a lot of whispering
Hair: holding up surprisingly well