The final stretch.

It has been a long time since I have taken more than one class a semester. But being that I am just about done, I figured why not. Which means this fall I find myself twice a week sitting on campus amongst kids that were 7 when I started. I know, do the math. It is that scary.

And yet, this semester is not actually classes but rather workshops to help me become a better writer. Both on the technical and the creative side of the scale. I am pretty sure the poetry workshop may be a lot more interesting than my research one, but hey you never know.

However the gentlemen who runs the workshops hates musicals. Believe me after that bombshell, I was about ready to leave. HOW CAN YOU HATE MUSICALS? Especially when you are in the creative writing field. I find it strange since poetry and musicals in a lot of way can go hand in hand but whatever. To each their own.

It is however a little intimidating to walk into a room with a bunch of young kids who totally look like the poet kind. Yes, the stereotypical poets with the long dark hair and the dark clothing. It was sort of funny. And then you have me. It is pretty safe to say I did not look like I belonged there. And my poetry was consisting of rhyming words such as pixie dust, magical and Disney to other things while they were discussing the word fork. Please note, the moment I saw fork I wanted to yell out dinglehopper!!!

But I am pretty sure that would have granted an even stranger look than the kid with the purple and hot pink hair in the corner got.

Onward ho.