One down, two to go

Tonight marked the last night of my English class. I didn’t think I’d be this bummed, but I totally am. There were some genuinely cool people in the class that I’m going to miss terribly. This is the downside to night classes…you just don’t get that outside-of-class connection going like you do with day courses. There’s a couple of folks I exchanged e-mail addresses with, and I think that will eventually lead somewhere (we’d all talked about submitting to the school’s literary journal this coming semester, so we’ll definitely cross paths no matter what). But others just faded into the night after Professor McHottie let us go. It was a sad sad event.

On the plus side, I spent over an hour in the parking lot afterwards having a hysterical conversation with two lovely people from the class. I think I shall be talking to them both again soon. We came up with an idea for poetic food that had us in stitches at one point. You really had to be there. But trust me, that was some funny shit right there. *channels Larry the Cable Guy*

My class presentation went well, although I was annoyed with myself for once again getting easily distracted by wandering into what I term as my “fact-finding journey” that I always do when I present in front of a group. Be it me training a classroom of managers or speaking about Margaret Atwood to college students, if I go off on a slight tangent about a random fact related to the topic, I sputter out and have to pause and recollect where I’d left off. It’s a seriously lame habit and one I don’t think I’ll ever get past. I never used to be like this. I think old age is making me senile.

I really feel stupid about my critical analysis paper and my portfolio though. I phoned ‘em both in and I’m not happy about it. I’m just embarrassed by the quality of work I turned in, and I know McHottie is going to read them and be like “What the fuck, Hicks…you’re above this crap.” Yeah, I know, I know, McHottie. I am. I most certainly am. But you see, I have this bad habit. It’s called procrastination. It’s been slowly eating me from the inside out since junior high. It’s genetic. My dad is the king of procrastination. Just ask him about the seven-year bathroom remodeling that is STILL GOING ON. You’ll see.

On the bright side of this, though…I’m finally feeling that writing spark again. I thought I’d feel it when I got my Moleskine notebook. Didn’t happen. (poor Moleskine, sitting here looking sad and beautiful) But there was something about having to hack apart my workshopped pieces to make them presentable for the portfolio that really struck me…I think maybe it was this protectiveness of my work and the desperate need to keep my original voice intact. I now have this itch to go back and re-rewrite them even more, get them spit-shined and pretty. I’m in love with “Stop-n-Pray”, but I had to take out the humorous elements to fit the plot arc that people saw the potential of. I really adore my “101″ story, but the more I look at it, the more it looks like a novel and not just a piece of short fiction. I really want to revisit it and see where it leads me.

And then there’s this short story I was kicking around in my head and I’d intended to put in the portfolio to add another link to my theme, but I didn’t have time to do it. I’m dying to put this one to page. I already have the first line. Wanna hear it?

“This is where Goonies was filmed,” the kid informed us, staring up at the front of my shirt from his seat on the bike.

Yeah. YEAH. That rocks. Rrrright.

OK. Anyway. So. That’s that. I’m going to finish up dinner and hit the hay. Tomorrow is the Big Day. Geo lab final. I took my last nine hours of vacation tomorrow so I could have the entire day to study and make sure my labwork is in order. Lab is 75% of the grade. Dear lord. I’m going to get up at around 6am and just bang away at it until 6pm arrives. Then I’m off to meet my geologic maker. So to speak.

Nightie night y’all.