I am still giddy over my aromatherapy candles from Bruce, and today I came home and found two packages waiting for me. First, I got some homemade soap from Charlotte. She's working on starting her own business. She sent me pear and rose scents, and they smell wonderful and they're so cute shaped. They are very Charlotte-like. I can't wait to use them.

And then I got a package from my sister, containing candy, various Angel paraphernalia, and the Buffy Season One DVD. It was very exciting. Share the joy! Share my joy!

Also joyous: I think my poetry mojo is coming back.

We had a poetry reading today. Almost the entire Poetics department read a couple of poems. It was mostly for the benefit of the accreditation committee which is currently evaluating our school, but it was fun regardless. Plus there was tons of wine and cheese-- even a videographer. It was the nicest reading we've had, kind of ever.

I read one old poem and one new one which is not very good but it is kinda funny, so it went over well. (Plus it's about Elizabeth Bishop-- I think my professor dug it.) Half the crowd left about halfway into the reading-- I think some people were on their lunch breaks and had other places to be. It was nice having everyone there, though, and some great stuff was read. I was proud of our department.

My mojo started to come back during the reading-- I always get inspired listening to good poetry. The kicker was the poetry workshop later in the day-- my art and poetry class. We looked at a bunch of slides (a few too many slides, if you ask me) and then exchanged work. Reading the work of my classmates really kick-started something.

The work of one girl in particular-- my bartender friend-- inspired a series of poems as letters. Hers are written to a guy named Bob, mine are written to a guy named Henry. Who is actually based on a real person, but shh. That's a secret.

I don't know how the Henry poems are going, but at least they're poems. I think maybe I've been feeling too much pressure to incorporate everything I've learned, and go to the next level, and blah blah blah. Poetry is an organic process-- I just have to see what happens. At least I'm writing something.

Yesterday in my Shakespeare class we started reading A Midsummer Night's Dream aloud. Professor P did random casting (according to where we were sitting) and I kept getting shafted. I got parts where I only had one line. And I wanted to do a speech, damnit! But my lines were all like, "Hey, forsooth, me too!" and that was it. My friends were complaining about having to play only guy parts or not getting to play Puck, but at least they got lines. Maybe next time.

I am loving this play more and more the better I understand it. I drove home tonight reciting Puck's final speech in my car. I have to tell you that when Shakespeare burrows his way into your brain, you don't ever get rid of him. Consider this fair warning.

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear...

"We got to read the plaques and dedications on the bridge, many of which refer to the 'Great Redwood Empire' as in, 'The Golden Gate Bridge is the Gateway to the Great Redwood Empire!' or 'By the Grace of God and the Great Redwood Empire!' I've never heard of this particular Empire before, but the bridge builders were evidently quite enthusiastic about it."