I just realized that I averaged a post a month over the summer break. You deserve more, though you may wish for less.

I had a strange conversation with my mother today. I have been thinking about what I want to do after graduation, and I've been toying with the idea of *gasp* teacher's college *double gasp*. For years, I'd sworn upon wind and caffeine (my two great loves) that I would never go to teacher's college. Now I'm thinking I might actually like to teach. I broke the news to my mum today, and her first response was "But what about your writing?" I was shocked to say the least. They had supported my decision to become a starving musician, but I thought they were mainly relieved when that path veered. Now, Mum is alright with me becoming a starving writer? I always suspected it, but todays conversation finally super glued it into place: my parents just want me to be happy. That's really all they want. I don't think they care if I'm wildly successful or scraping to make ends met, so long as I'm doing something I love. At a time when I'm waking up panicked about the future (I know; ride the rainbow), it's beautiful to hear "but what about your writing?" They're as proud of me at protests as they are when I help someone in need. Whatever makes me feel good. I may win no more than $2 at the casino, but I sure am a lucky bitch.