chicating

and therefore not what the doctor(or Dan Savage, for instance) might have ordered--me over a notebook is novel like a thing that is not, clearly, no *transgressions* there, but the haunted house fiction class was a little bit better last night...

It would be a little better to watch us form into a group if there were more than two more sessions. Not that I exactly want to ponder a genre I don't really have a feel for every Monday night forever and ever, amen. But I am taking a shot and even living with not being the star in a way my fifteen-year-old self might not believe, so that is a tiny shoot of growth, even if it might not be worth the price of this thing.(Maybe the plot bunny about a haunted mall might be if I wrote it, not sure if I will. It's often hard to read a lot and write a lot at the same time, but I jotted thoughts down anyway.
Probably not taking Anne Elliot's class next month, as it is more expensive and I think I need to give extra Zoom a rest after this. But I will e-mail her if I ever get a pub date for Wedded Twist, short version. She's a great instructor/workshop leader and took a flattering interest.

(Nice smart people, nobody I even imagined sending a flirty comment to at a moment when I might imagine chemistry with damn near anybody...but it's probably okay because the closest person is in L.A. or Orange County or something and even if he were pine-worthy,(Nope, gay in a way that's easy to spot. Smart, though. Thorough reader in a way I've never quite mastered.) I think I have "Long-Distance Yearnings" fully covered anyway.

13 women this time, on journalling and found objects. We had someone from London and from Canada--I'm the designated desert dweller, as I usually am when culturally-elitist activities are afoot.(Writing for this one might be a little more challenging than just showing off something that I've already done. Not sure what I can do yet. I try every day, but the *other* job I don't get paid for is claiming beaucoup real estate... maybe I am breaking pattern a bit after all.) Even if I can't do something hot, like salsa-dancing lessons. But then my grandma got seriously fleeced by dance instructors who were definitely money-grubbing and probably gay, so maybe that is not a sexy thought anyway.
Probably should finish J.'s phone list tonight, although, like most things undertaken for the hometown crowd? Not that successful.