First Day of School

First day of graduate school means I have to start doing things I've been putting off for way too long. Like tweezing my eyebrows. Like changing that bulb on the ceiling light. Like writing this blog. So here I am, my attempt to get my words to you as fast as I possibly can.

At my orientation for my MFA program yesterday one of the professors compared becoming a writer to volunteering to become a manic depressive. I laughed it off, but I looked around at the other slightly worried faces and began to think - is it possible to be a writer...and be happy? The odds seem against us - a depressed, alcholic, narcissistic writer - yes. But a well- balanced, functional human being who enjoys writing, loves it, intends to devote her whole life to it, but who would sometimes rather just drink a pitcher of sangria in the middle of the day, and can still get her shit done - can this be possible? I say...yes! Yes, she can. Yes, she will.

You will laugh here, maybe you will cry - I won't judge you, maybe you will want to be a better person because of this, or maybe you will want to pack your things and move to an island somewhere very far away and never speak to me again. But my hope is that you willl want to stay and keep reading. And you will see, this I'm sure of, that the beauty was there all along.

Please stay tuned as I continue this journey, friend. Your presence would be greatly appreciated.