Day 8 - Friday is for Reading

So, it's here: the last night of residency, coupled with the exciting but nerve-wracking student reading. I'm just sad to even consider leaving tomorrow. This semester has probably been my favorite out of the three that I've attended. I forced myself out of my shell and partook in all of the social activities, even if I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed.

Last night was our cocktail party and movie night. It was also the one night during the week in which all of the poets went out together, including our mentors. First was the cocktail party, however, which ended up being pretty entertaining. We had some pretty creative drinks, and, of course, I think I tried the strongest one first.

 

All of the drinks were named after writers. I'd never had applejack before, but holy crap, that stuff lights you up. I promptly switched to The Falconer (named for my previous mentor and the release of his new book), which was considerably more tame. Afterward, we all went to a place called Jasmine's and had several pretty great conversations amongst ourselves. We were a tad late for the movie, "Beasts of the Southern Wild," but, as soon as I sat down, whatever buzz I'd had was long gone. If you've never seen the movie, prepare to have your heart stomped on. It was a really quick way to go from giggly and joking to stone cold somber in ten minutes tops. You could definitely tell everyone else felt the exact same way, because, even in the dark, you could see the wide-eyed look of, "Oh my God, my soul." It was really a weird combination for a social evening out.

 

Now, here we are, the final full day and night of residency. The anxiety is already clenching that screwed up spot in my chest. I don't want to leave. I'm afraid that, when I go back, everything I have here is just going to be sapped up. There's so much I have to worry about at home and take care of, that who has time--let alone feels like--writing anything worth a crap? Expressing this anxiety in workshop the other day, we all confessed to feeling the same fear of returning home. We agreed that we would try to meet mid-semester somewhere for at least a weekend writing retreat. When I get home, I'm going to look up and see if I can find any secluded places that we could rent for a weekend.

 

Then my next course of action is applying to other retreats. My friend told me about some that take place in Illinois and said she thought that there was one I could, for sure, get into. I think she said it's like two weeks of just going there and writing. I could definitely do that. I definitely want to do that. I don't want to lose what I feel like here, and I have to get my stuff together and going. I've told myself as soon as I get home that I'm picking out five of my favorite poems and just sending them everywhere absolutely possible, any magazine that seems like it might even remotely be a good fit for me.

 

Anyway, I've got to go and locate some breakfast. Workshop today, a quick mentor meeting to finalize my contract, and then a few hours to sweat it out before the reading tonight. A few hours to decide what exactly I want to read and how many poems I think I can read before entering the danger zone of potential light-headedness. But I can do it. I can do it. And if even just one person comes up to me tonight and says that they liked it, I've accomplished something. Even though I'm sure my brain will probably just be like, "Well, they were just being nice." I can't help it.