Last things; going on

I've had my last seminar (but I've still got to write some stuff so I don't fail it), I've had my last workshop (which went very nicely, thank you all), and I taught my last class (but I've still got to do some grading). I keep adding ever to all of those, but one really can't say what one is going to do once one finishes running away to Mexico. Maybe I'll get a doctorate. Not if I don't do my work for the seminar. Last night was my last chance to see a lot of people, I'm afraid, and I came late and left early. I was afraid of drinking and sentimentality. But it was nice to have a final thing. I made a badge out of a Newcastle label and was complimented on it.

Insipired by the compliment, I spent most of this morning making a skirt. It's all panels, with the seams on the outside. Very deconstructed and Japenese-y. Not really. Just a little odd. Before Aaron went to Mexico and said I should go too, I was going to go back to Pasadena City College and enroll in the fashion program so I could become a fashion designer and make money and occasionally write poems. Then I would come out with a book of poetry and Vogue would review it and Paris Hilton and Gwyneth Paltrow would buy it from my boutique when they finished trying on my $1000 deconstructed skirts. Gwyneth played Sylvia Plath, you may remember, and Paris is a published author. Annie Lebowitz was going to take pictures of me at my desk in my Spring Collection's wedding gown. But then Mexico. . . still, PCC will always be there.

Besides Mexico, there was the workshop going well and I also won an award, and both of these made me feel more confident about the idea of continuing to write. I was told recently that when I claim that I'm stupid or a bad writer, it's arrogant, which I think means that I think I know better than those people who say I'm not. I don't mean to be arrogant. I think I have different criteria in some ways. I'm not smart in the way I'd like to be. My poetry wasn't satisfying me. Now, some people say it doesn't matter what the poet thinks, as long as the reader is satisfied, but how can you go on writing the same things until you publish a whole book if you are not satisfied? I don't know. Maybe I'm figuring it out.

Well, I'm glad I went to graduate school after all. I'm glad I didn't drop out when I felt disappointed by everything about it. At least I accomplished this goal I set for myself...how long ago? Back at PCC, 1998 or '99, I guess. That's something. It will be something once I finish my thesis. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

My new goal: Kids? No. Husband? Gross. Fame? In poetry? Ha! Fortune? See previous. Finding a new goal? Yeah, sure. I suppose that's what Mexico and writing awards are for.