I went to my first writing class last night since I left college. I graduated (lets call it late in life) May of last year and have been writing this and that ever since. I enjoy the writing, and I want to continue to improve my skills. So off I went to this private class; we’re lucky in San Francisco where we have many opportunities outside the university system to pursue arts in various forms. It’s not as if I don’t have enough to do though. My job is demanding and takes more time than ever. It requires me to travel quite a bit out of state, and be at training sessions all over CCSF (that’s official-speak for City and County of San Francisco). I try and exercise. I have a ham radio license. I like to spend time with my partner.... But I truly love to write, so there I am in the living room of a local author with a small group of like-minded individuals who share a common passion.
What’s so funny is that I thought I’d be taking on less as I got older. I’ve got more projects now than I’ve ever had before. But I seem to love it all, and I’m not getting stressed. Maybe my age has helped me to learn to take it all in stride. Or maybe that nervous breakdown is lurking around the corner. Yikes!
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