donezo

presented my last, "seminal" piece of work for my master's program this afternoon. it was well received. my class is a mixed bag of documentary students and long-form magazine-style writers. i am neither. i squeaked into the class because i decided that one of my majors - i had two - wasn't worth a damn, so i dropped it and took this class instead.

if you want to get an idea of what we writers in the class were striving to do, read something written by katherine boo, formerly of the new yorker, or hanna rosin, an editor at the atlantic.

i'm going to be pitching my story to a magazine after the holidays are over. it's sort of my meal ticket, or a big break, if i get published, but i understand that it's a bit of a long shot. a feature-length story by a very green writer... hmm.

so our presentation today consisted of full screenings of all four documentaries (each around 20 minutes in length) and the 10 stories written by the long form writers. we only read excerpts. i was the second person to present, which was lucky, because we still had a full house at that point, and people were still awake. four hours later, not so much. most everyone that wasn't in the class had bounced (could you blame them? four unrelenting hours, no breaks) and the people that were there were completely saturated.

i went and drank a pitcher of 312 afterward with my good friend amy, her roomies and a couple of people from the program. the idea was that our whole class was supposed to go for drinks, but of course being journalists we just dissipate and do our own thing. MBA students we are not. by drank a pitcher i mean we each had a pitcher's worth of beer, not that we split one. this is the midwest, after all.

so now i get to pack up my life yet again, and deploy boxes to the four corners of the earth. i'm beginning to think i don't have the right to own anything. i also can't sleep and have a headache from the beer. i took a melatonin and hope to be sleeping soon.