but you're too fucking lazy so you just start a blog. i'm a little bummed today because i just got word that the writing class i signed up for is cancelled. not enough people want to be the toni morrison of maine. it was the only cultural pursuit in my future and now it's dead. i even budgeted it. it's a line item under self preservation. because i'm going to go freaking insane if i don't find something meaningful to do with myself.
as compulsive baking is no longer an option i thought a writing class would be fun, and maybe i'd fall in love with it. i keep picturing angela lansbury in murder she wrote...she was a writer, she lived in maine...she was even fat! and no one cared! because she solved all those mysteries...and i wouldn't have to drive.* it's not that i think being a writer would necessarily be easy. angela toiled. steven king keeps losing his bats. there are prices to pay. none of which i will get to know because they cancelled my damn class.
so i welcome your suggestions. wait it out and start a new class in the fall? get the idiots guide to writing and teach thyself? or i could take up knitting. if y'all were me, what would you choose?
*it's now completely obvious how much daytime re-run tv i have watched in my life and that's why i don't need to have cable because i have seen and remember every detail from every show from 1985 to 2003. so help me.