2 punk 4 u

Last year I had a whole lot of things to say about the writer's conference. Christine got sort of upset, saying that I had a lot of new friends that I liked more than the ones I already had. This year I don't have nearly as much to say. A lot was different this year I guess. Some of my friends didn't come back; no one was happy about that. And the me that went this year wasn't the same me that went last year. It also didn't rain as much this year. The sun came out (!!!!) and we had BBQ and sat next to the musicians. But in many ways it was the same. It's stressful to pack, drive, find a place to park (there were actually no spaces), park illegally, run inside and register, find a less illegal place to park about 10 miles away, find my dorm, find the door to my dorm locked, have a student call campus security to unlock the door, and find my room. Then my friends got there and it was a lot less stressful.

I was in this fantasy writing workshop and the only way I can put it is that cute boys don't write fantasy and girls that I'm good friends with don't write fantasy. So while my friend Margaret was staring at cute boys in poetry writing workshops (literally, they had to look at each other and then write about their faces), I was telling a girl named Tesla that her conversations between animals and humans seemed spot on.

But my friend Phoebe and I wrote a flash fiction story called "Draft in Anticipation of Murder." My friends and I shared a bag of marshmallows with the entire conference. And Margaret's mother sat with the car running for a long time because we would hug and say, "I'll see you, okay?" "We're gonna be okay, okay?" After deciding that we were in fact okay, we broke apart and then decide we weren't okay and hug again.

The last hours of the writer's conference always include everyone asking about everyone else's grade. "What grade are you in?" "Are you coming back next year?" This year I had to answer that I was a senior and probably not because I'm not sure if I'll be able to mentor, but I'd love to.

2013 (I have no idea why we're doing that thing with our hands, but we are.)

2014

Quotes

"This is not a clapping moment!"
-me to Margaret when she was the only one clapping

"We're so punk."
-literally all of us every ten seconds

"JESSSSSSS"
-Margaret when someone knocked on our door

"Her hips were like pistols and I was ready to die."
-Tessie

"Icecream?"
-Abby to me at the end of every meal

"Abby, I don't think they serve ice cream at breakfast."
- me to Abby at breakfast

"Sammi. I think you've had enough soda."
-everyone to me

"Oh my gosh. I'm shaking."
-Margaret and I after the poetry slam

"Sammi! Did you just say 'hella'?"
-Tessie

"I'm sorry I'm such an embarrassment."
-Me to Tessie because I did indeed say 'hella'

"Wanna see me do Voo-doo?"
-Some girl in my fantasy writing workshop

"No thank you."
- Me to the Voo-doo girl

"I write because I know I will fail. I write to turn my anger into passion. I write against my embarrassment."
-Terry Tempest Williams

"What you have to say is important. What you know, we need to hear."
-Terry Tempest Williams

"The minute you pick up your pen, you will betray someone, just make sure it's not yourself."
-Terry Tempest Williams