I really do live a charmed life. (Or a semi-charmed kinda one anyway.) My work sitter, the grown-up who watches the monsters on Thursdays when I go to the hospital told me this morning that she quit her full time job at the dental office, and if I wanted her for more hours during the summer she'd love to make the money. Sometimes, life hands you a day that's like a giant weight being lifted off your chest, and the light of clarity shines in. Now I just wish that light would point to what I want to do with my future come September. Why I'm putting pressure on myself is beyond me. I think it depends on how I do in the writing workshop. If I completely bomb, and cannot produce a story worth shit, then I may hang up my prose for a while and go back to work more.
I don't know what is with me and the self-confidence and the writer's block. I think maybe I am feeling like the encouragement I once had was inflated flattery, and miss the nagging and prodding to produce something. God knows no one else seems to. Though that's not really true. My dad asked me just this past weekend how my writing was coming and if I'd written anything. Whenever anyone asks me actually I get this terrible pang inside, like I'm letting people down. I'm letting myself down, that's for sure. I can't sit and piss and moan over my own inaction.
I looked up the bio for my instructor, and I felt a good vibe; plus- she wrote this. I liked it. Oh for a muse of fire. I need inspiration. What am I afraid of???