Drink, Drank, Drunk

So, I didn't get the job as the assistant managing editor of Willow Springs. However, is it weird that I'm sort of relieved? I mean, if I would have gotten it that would have been great, but now I get to have a life for the next two years, and I get more time to write, and I get to be slightly less stressed. Plus, I'm going to be an assistant fiction editor, so it's not like I'm not still involved.

On another note, I turned in my first story for workshop. It's now out of my hands and I'm not thinking about it till next Tuesday. After that, I'll let you all know how my slaughter goes (because I'm sure my class is going to hate it). But that's what workshops are for, right?

Additionally, Tuesday night after class everyone goes out, because all the genres have workshop so afterward we all meet at this bar around the corner called The Globe. It's a good place (but don't order the Cesar salad, very fishy). Anyway, so we went out their last night and afterward went to this great little all night diner called the Satellite. Half of it is a bar and half is a diner and you can order whatever you want at either one. So we're all their getting breakfast at like one in the morning and Terry, a poet from Rochester NY, orders a short stack of pancakes and a double jack and coke. It was fantastic. Plus he's very Irish, so it kind of reminded me of being back home in west park.
My mother thinks I'm regressing, since I go out drinking so much (and it's partially true, damn I thought I drank a lot in undergrad...). But here's the thing, writers are traditionally big drinkers. Some of the best authors (Hemingway, Poe, etc.) have been complete drunks. So we're kind of just following in their amazing writerly footsteps. right? right.
And, in my defense, I only had one drink last night because I was driving. It was called a washington pear. I don't know what was in it, the bartender just kind of made it up, but it was pretty tasty.