I was most nervous about the in class assignments and of reading them out loud. On the spot. With no editing. I have never tried fiction before, I've only ever written about myself. But I tried. And at five to ten I realized that I'd kick myself all week if I didn't participate, so I volunteered to read what I had just written. And nothing terrible happened. Instead, the guy next to me actually said, "that was good".
As I get older I feel like there are fewer times where I am able to be really proud of myself. Growing up there were recitals and big exams and school plays and graduations. Now something good happens every once and a while at work that's my doing, but that doesn't feel like much. Monday night I felt proud. It may be a small thing, but I'll take it.
|bird's eye view, random photo for a Friday|