It doesn't feel real, like I shouldn't be here.
Everyone here is so highfalutin lol. I feel like a commoner who
Stumbled into the grand ballroom and is now tryin to play it off.
Three classes. Ascetics, mainly covering the artist prior to and after the Victorian era.
Talk about over my head! But it's my favorite. When he discuses how they all connect and the deeper meanings in the works I feel the lights come on.
Am also taking a course on teaching composition. This is as dry as I feared but necessary because let's face it, teaching is a viable option. I'm sure I'll get good things out of it.
The last is a fiction writing workshop,
We've only reviewed one story so far. It's like I expected with observational fiction that reflects real life.
I write to escape that. As far as I'm concerned there's too much reality in reality.
Was informed by the instructor that si fi/ fantasy would be acceptable but would be judged by the same standards as fiction. To me this means they will want explinations on how a warp drive works or why a Dwarf might use a shotgun instead of an ax.
I choose not to have to explain these things to people who will just nitpick. Instead I will give them the fiction they want. It's still writing after all and offers new challenges.
I felt like the faceless man on campus. At sixty you don't feel old, which has nothing to do with others perception of you.
They are overly polite and deferential. They rush to be away from you. Too close to death I guess lol
I know, my perception and probably bullshit.
It's still good to be out though, among the living lol.
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