I have a writing job to do this week. Good for me. Yet I’m totally procrastinating.
The temperature didn’t reach 70 F today in Tacoma. It feels like Fall is coming too quickly.
I downloaded information from the website of Pacific Lutheran University for their non-residential MFA in creative writing. Whoa guys, this 3-year program costs $30,000. You know what, it’s probably worth it.
I promised myself I would not borrow any more money to go to school. Geesh, I don’t know if I’ll actually pay off my last loan before I die.
I’m going to Kelli Agodon’s and Susan Rich’s first (annual?) Poets on the Coast Writing Retreat for Women at Nye Beach in Oregon next week. Excited, yes. Very much so.
I’ll be staying in the Gertrude Stein room at the Sylvia Beach Hotel.
But I have to spend Thursday and Friday in a training if I want per diem work with Planned Parenthood, which I do need (if not exactly want). So I’m going to be late arriving at the above topic.
I’ve spent 14 of the past 15 weeks doing nothing significant except writing. It’s been heavenly. Now that I’m trying my best to line up some work, I’m already feeling sad and lonely for this life.
I’m trying Atkins again, it’s worked for me in the past. I totally need to lose some weight. Problem is I love bread, rice, potatoes, pasta, you-name-it carbs.
I’m having company this week. One person and one cat.