School's out

You would think a green short sleeve tee-shirt over a white long sleeve one would hide profuse sweating caused by first day nerves. WRONG! My left pit looked like one of those ‘Grow your own pony’ toys they sell in mall kiosks. You know, the kind you put in water and it gets bigger over night. Only difference is we are talking about a big wet stain growing in minutes, not hours. Thankfully, I don't think any of the other kids saw it. My reputation is safe.

As for going to school it certainly was interesting. I not am sure what I expected but I totally forgot what a classroom looked like. Somehow I thought I would be sitting in a coffee shop while some old guy in a blazer with arm patches taught me the nuances of being a master of the written word. What I got was old plastic chairs, long tables, and a wall-to-wall blackboard. "Welcome to Creative Writing,' was written prominently across the board. There were two instructors, a husband and wife team that really had great chemistry. At times I felt I was watching a routine by Abbot and Costello, but it didn’t diminish what they were trying to convey. There are some really positive aspects to the class. The best thing is that all the criticism on one's writing will be given in a constructive way. Meaning, the instructors will try to highlight each person’s natural strengths rather than their weaknesses. This way you won’t focus on what you can't do and let it consume you. This works really well for me because I cry like a three year old when I am criticized. What is the saying, "I can dish it out but can't take it."

So far I like the class, except for one tiny thing. The instructors ask that each student read their work out loud to the whole class. This way everybody can get an idea of the different writing styles out there. I am not sure why I am taking issue with this, but I am. It has made me insanely jittery. I love people reading my shit, and I love an audience, but reading to a group of other writers is just nerve racking. Especially when others go first and their writing makes mine look like I am back in fourth grade. It is the worst. The first exercise we did last night was going around the room introducing ourselves and giving a bit of background of what we do and why we were there. As soon as I started to talk, I sensed my face turning a nice magenta color while sweat poured out my nose and eyebrows. That was nothing compared to the feeling of my ears closing up as I rambled on about being there to find some sort of style. Blah Blah Blah!! Enough whining. I am acting like I was wearing headgear to class. I got my first homework assignment which I am eager to start tonight. If you are good maybe I will even share it with you.