Lesley Residency 2.8
Fridays are normally one of my happiest days of the week but when its the Friday of the residency I am understandably subdued. My friends are about to leave and this incredible writing experience is about to be over. I have mixed emotions. I am anxious to begin the real work of the semester, the writing, but I am also longing for a little more time in this magical space where the things I treasure most in life are valued above all else.
Now, I miss my wife and I’m sad I didn’t really have time to hang with Tori while she was here this week (though I did try calling both Thursday and Friday). I’m even sadder that I didn’t get to see Jimmy last night even though I was in the building next door to his during the latter part of the evening. Shera, Jill, and I got carried away by our conversations.
The day was good. We began with a nonfiction for young people seminar that provided useful information and anecdotes for writers in all genres. We did lunch. We reviewed my second story in workshop and I got great feedback. I had one-on-one meetings with both my writing/reading advisor and my interdisciplinary advisor and I finally had a much better idea of what I’ll be doing after Saturday night. As usual, I listened to WEEI Sports Radio on the way in and out of the city and I grew anxious to see what the Patriots will do on Sunday.
There were drinks consumed as well, at a place on Mass Ave called the Temple Bar and when Shera, Jill, and I were the only ones left out of our party of eight they started seating this other large party around us and basically kicked us out because we hadn’t ordered anything in a while. Shera was still finishing her beer. It was rude. Though I don’t blame the bar for wanting to make money, I don’t think I’ll go there again. Too many yuppies wandering about in the wrong decade.
All in all, a good day. I certainly don’t want it to end, though. And that’s just what it’s doing.