And the semester is over.
Overall, I'm glad I took classes this semester. I did well. My grades aren't final but I believe I got A's in both classes. The creative writing class was great. It got me to actually do a little bit of writing for once, instead of just talking about it. I discovered I'm pretty good at writing dialogue and pretty hopeless as far as correct grammar is concerned. Who actually knows when to use commas, hyphens and all those stupid things anyways?
My Women in Literature class was...interesting. Some days I really enjoyed it. Talking to a group of mostly women about women and the state of the world felt good. And I read some material I probably never would have. I finally cracked down and read The Handmaid's Tale. But it was a shit ton of work. And more stressful than I had been hoping for.
I will not be taking any classes next semester. There really aren't any being offered that I'm too interested in. And frankly the creative writing class was the only one that got me to do the kind of writing I want to do. Which was the point of going. That and building up my transcripts if I ever decide to apply to grad school.
So for now I will work and try and get some writing done. I got the 30 hour position at the library and I officially resigned as a substitute teacher. Which feels insanely good. If you can handle it, it's not a bad part-time job. But after two and half years of constant anxiety I'd had enough. Now I spend my time creating new ways to entertain teenagers. But only for two hours a week.
And today, while I was bored at work, with no homework looming over me, I wrote a couple of pages. If I just did that. Every day. Just a couple of pages every day. I'd be so much farther along. So that's my hope. Just a couple of pages a day and see how far I get.
