Straight No Chaser

Writing

i am handwriting this term paper, page by painful page, because trying to word-process it was beginning to give me a headache. it's the last thing i have to do, besides, you know, copious amounts of panicked packing, and because it's due friday i had vowed to finish ten of the twenty pages by sundown today, but this writing thing, it's for the birds. i don't know why anyone would ever want to do it.

speaking of which, the ten poems i turned in yesterday: all garbage. the deadline hit and i wasn't done, so i ran around my documents folder pieceing together lines and stanzas that were never intended to go together. which is okay. school's over. writing is over. i currently feel like if i never had to write another thing, ever in life, i'd be thrilled.

the irony is, one of the two summer jobs i finally settled on involves teaching elementary and middle-school students to write. writing camp. photo-prompts and torch-passing storythons and such. seemed like such a great idea when i applied three months ago. not so now, when all i've done for the past ninety-six hours is work on paper after paper, to the point where even this entry feels tedious.

oh, though, actually that's because it is. my bad.