I continue to be unhappy and uncomfortable with the small writing group. Wednesdays and Fridays I work at the thrift store, and I am very comfortable with the people I work with on those days. I don’t want to change my Wednesdays for another day, but if I do I can return to the large writing workshop.
The small group does a better than average job editing my work. I learn a lot every time I attend. I truly like most of the individual participants.
Marion B founded this small poetry group. She first ran the group from Nati’s restaurant in OB as an offshoot of the big workshop. Later she invited us to her home once a week to read and nosh. We all had a great time and leaned lots before our much admired Marion B died. Then Kay took it over perhaps by sheer force of personality, and it worked. Kay has MS, and she signed up for an editing class out of SDSU so she can work from home. The small workshop devolved into anarchy.
I do have to ask myself if it is my ego talking here? Do I have control issues? Am I at fault in some manner in not feeling comfortable with this group as it stands now?
There are three non-writers, one really sweet poet, one Physicist who writes such dense material that my brain doesn’t understand it, two who are writing bios, one fiction writer, and me. They all talk more than read, eat lunch at one thirty, and talk even more.
I’m not comfortable, and I am thinking about just quietly fading away from the group.
Wednesday the 15th: Pool first. Change into something light and off to the Discovery shop. He headed to Carlsbad for a day of work with the guys on the new program. He will eat on the way home. The lady who helps price books was in the hospital, so I tackled the masses of books that guy brought from the Library recycle bins. Many had mold, damage, or were withdrawn library books. We don’t sell those. Got a great many out on the floor. Home to a sandwich and a late G who was taken out to dinner by the boss.
Thursday the 16th: Pool first. G up in Carlsbad again. I worked hard polishing off the Steampunk piece, to class at a new venue. It was a Mediterranean restaurant and the ambiance were great. The owner is an artist who also has a studio in Spanish Village in Balboa Park. The buffet offered everything from Vegan through meat balls. The group was even more caucuphonous than usual. I was physically miserable too as the weather was changing. Maybe I should take a silicone cushion with me when I go out into the world. Meatloaf sandwich for dinner with G who didn’t get dinner this second day.
Friday the 17th: Up early woken by a persistent mosquito sound hovering over my ear. This week I finished reading “Full Dress Grey by Truscott. Well written. I’ve read “White House Doctor” and “Flipping Out” by Karp this week too. Skimmed the ending of the Karp…I wanted to know if they caught the bad guy before my bedtime. I confess that my eyes are tired. Silly me. No pool. Work today will be a madhouse. Everything in the store is 50% off today and tomorrow. There’s usually a very long line outside, and, in the back room among other stuff, there’s massive number of already priced books to go out. I’m usually so very comfortable in madhouses.
1321: Imagine, most of the books got out, and all got priced. It’s 82 now with 85% humidity….I’m home and sticking to myself, my chair, and my keyboard. I got a necklace; he bought a Mel Brooks movie. I’ll post the store pictures to Facebook, the get ready for dinner and a meeting. I do loves my meeting by the bay. Maybe I can poke him into a movie after the meeting. I can hope. Nope, he tells me that six tomorrow evening will work. Perhaps tonight will be a “Men in Tights” night.