Everyone was wearing green on campus today, except for me. Yesterday I put on a green sweater before I realized that I should save it for St. Patty's day. That sweater was the last thing on my mind this morning. I put on a blue and white stripped shirt. I felt like an intruder on campus. Everyone was so happy and the matting game was in full swing. Guys and girls jetted out in strange walking angles just to reach the other sex, and I was always in the way--like I needed to get my non-green and 17 year non-virginness out of the way.
What is it about 60 degree weather that makes people want to mate?
I want to tell you about how happy I am lately but first, a grieviance: I am popping on and off of campus very quickly these days. Everyone takes everything sooooo freaking seriously. When did telling a story become so much about top schools, theories, the best journals, have you read such and such an author, who is better than who, who is deserving of what? And they hate Alice Munro who is said to be the only writer today who will be read one hundred years from now. But no, they say, The New Yorker should just stop publishing her stories. I think of Alice Munro as a triumph--she is 80 and her stories are still brilliant. But I guess we should just shoot talented old people so that young writers can take their spot.
Bad energy. We will be eighty one day too.
Now about how happy I am: I went on a walk around a lake yesterday, then ran 45 minutes, I weeded out alfalfa and took a survey of all the plants in my yard. What a blessing! Nothing is growing or blooming yet, but when I peek at the base of the plants, I see the potential for a wonderful spring.
Potential. That is enough to make me happy.
5 comments:
Who writes like this! I mean honestly. You have a gift Erica. Maybe someday, 80 years from now, we will be re-reading your blog!
Happy St. Patty's Day. I'm so bummed that I missed workshop today—sounds like it was pretty darn interesting.
I laugh at how true this is, knowing full well how I've participated in the whole "taking everything too seriously" mentality. Knowing full well and hating myself a little for it.
For the record, I love Alice Munro. I had heard him say he disliked her before, and wanted to see how he'd defend his position in class. Outrageous, no?
We're all going to leave soon, and we'll laugh uproariously about it all soon too.
P.S. I love Anne's dress. I saw it on Louise's blog.
i'm sad that you pop in and out of campus. i look for you every time before and after i teach.
do you still want to sub my class next thursday? (maybe this should be in an email?)
love you.
There's something about a brilliant living author that gets under people's craw. And why? There's plenty of room for published mediocre writers.
Meow.
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