there's always a siren singing you to shipwreck

I got to work for an eight a.m. conference call, only to discover that the other participant had cancelled it after I woke up (and checked my mail with the desperate hope that it had been cancelled while I slept) but before I got to the office. I hate when that happens! However, I was able to get breakfast as a result--scrambled eggs, spicy roasted potatoes, and zucchini bread did much to restore my spirits. I worked all day, except for a brief lunch hiatus with Alaska Matt, and then came home with the intention of putting my room completely in order. It didn't quite happen, but I did do some laundry and organize my closet, so progress was achieved.

In other news, I saw a catalogue for Stanford Continuing Studies in the cafe near the laundromat, and I rushed home to sign up for a fiction-writing class this fall. I wanted to take the novel class, but it was already full, so I signed up for the short-story class instead. It meets every Thursday evening, conveniently beginning right after Katie's wedding and conveniently ending right before Christmas. Hopefully this will trigger a burst of creativity on my part, and induce me to finish my romance novel; if nothing else, it will provide me with a library card so that I can take naps in Green Library again and relive the days of my lost youth.

The funny thing is that I complain that I never have time to finish my novel because I'm so busy with work--but the fact that I'm so busy with work is what has enabled me to be able to afford a slightly-overpriced $500 continuing studies class. I had wanted to take continuing studies classes when I first graduated, but my entry-level salary was just enough to cover rent, car payments, trips home, and endless stops at Pizza My Heart with Walter; continuing studies had to fall by the wayside, even though I had plenty of free time and a bona-fide 9-6 job. Now, I have the money for continuing studies, but no time, since my job is more like 7-7 and I require at least eight hours of sleep. Anyway, I'm happy that I signed up--I decided to just do it without thinking about it and psyching myself out. Now, I can use the professional opinion of a Stegner Fellow (=prestigious writing fellowship at Stanford) to discover whether I actually have any talent at putting imaginative stories on paper, or if my talents are limited to recounting the admittedly-crazy things that happen to me with near-constant frequency.

Classes don't start for a month, however, which leaves me plenty of time to slack off. I'm going to begin now by going to bed!