From an early age, I believed I wanted to be a writer. I was an avid reader as a kid and I had an overactive imagination so I thought that would easily translate into writing. I took creative writing classes in high school and majored in English in college. I took poetry classes, advanced writing classes, served on the editorial board of the University's literary journal (which I did poorly) and even submitted some of my stories to magazines for publication. Nothing was ever published and I never really found the ability to complete even a short story outside of college. I guess it wasn't meant to be.
Magpie is touring with his book on the history of anarchism. Personally, it's not my bag. I'm not a history buff. However, I thought his presentation at Powells Bookstore tonight was well done and well received by the absolutely full reading room. It was a bit too full so I took Raven to another room so we could read comic books.
I really think that I'm happy with the path I've chosen. Maybe if I'd pursued writing more and fought to make it into the business, I'd be happy there too. I just feel that I'm doing something more substantial here.
What else?
Before the presentation, we went to the Vegetarian House and I got "Ham"-fried rice for the first time. Classy as I am, I ate half of it during the presentation. While leaving, a guy on the street corner tried to sell us a plastic rose or something like that for a dollar. When we said no thanks, he asked if I could spare my supper. It was good but I think that I ate my money's worth out of it so I gave him the other half. I hope he enjoyed it.
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