One Mrs. Dash!!!!! Mrs. Dash, Mrs. Dash!

Heh. My morning was spectacular, what with driving Mike to the collision shop and then having pizza and Price is Right for breakfast. He also helped me study a little, which was much appreciated, as I had two tests today, both in my ridiculous classes that I wish I didn't have to take. Criminal Justice definitely went well, I feel very good about that one, but not so much about the S-linguistics one. This semester is killing me, seriously. It's my own fault, I'm sure, because I'm not putting into my classes nearly what I need to be. Which is part of the reason why I've avoided the whole job situation. But. By January of next year, my life should be calm again...and, okay, maybe that's a long time, but at least I can see the slow down. I'm hoping to just take a semester to kind of catch my breath when I get back from Ireland, like a poetry workshop, my last period class (woo!), another N & M class (honors, hopefully), and my honors seminar. Yeah, I know it's only 12 credit hours, but hopefully I'll be able to apply for another internship that semester, and finally finally be able to attend the Indiana Writer's Conference. On that note, though...I've been giving some serious thought to the whole poetry thing. And really, I just don't know that I'm good enough to do what I want to do. I feel sometimes like my professor and my peers are just patting me on the head, when really, I need to know if I've got what it takes. Because, seriously, I'm getting to the point where really, I do have to decide if this is what I want to (am able to?) go to grad school for. I need...god, I just feel like I need someone to tell me that I'm terrible, or that yeah, I do have potential, and here's what you do to make the most of it. I love Cecil to death, I really do, and I trust him as a writer, but he's just too damn nice as a critic, because he does love poetry, and he doesn't want to discourage any of us from writing. Which is really commendable. However, it doesn't help me. And I think the fact that I am doubting myself and not just staying comfortable with his uplifting comments does say something about me, and if I don't have the talent to be a writer, I at least have the drive. But it isn't the drive that gets me into grad school, or published. *sighs* That sounds like such a pipe dream when I write it down. I can't imagine ever seeing a book with my name on it, be it cheap and tawdry paperback, or a slim volume tucked on the shelves upstairs, the only copy of my first book that 17 people will read, but it would be poetry, damn it, and really, it would be more than enough for me.