2013: A Fiction Odyssey

I went to the orientation day for my program on Tuesday. They fed us lunch and told us that it’s not okay to isolate yourself, that if you feel alone, you should talk to someone. A certain amount of anxiety is good and can propel one to be productive, but if you’re more anxiety than productivity, then you should talk to someone.

This message was reiterated several times in different ways. It was definitely the theme of the orientation.

Otherwise, it was a little over an hour of hey-welcome-don’t-freak-out-you’re-all-in-the-same-boat.

The director of the program is a 59-year old poet. He sat on the desk and took his shoes off. At that point, I remembered the last initial in the degree I’m seeking. MFA. Art. I’m in an art department.

I’m surrounded by artists. This is no different than making a shitty ashtray out of coiled clay in first grade.

You can put out a cigarette on anything.

I think I’m going to be okay.

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