March is a bad month.

I'm always excited for March, even though it's usually just as cold as February. March is the month before finals, where every prof decides to schedule important projects. March has no breaks. The March I once knew, and loved, has been revealed to me as what it really is.

I'm beginning to work on a character. Brianne. We're moving away from the poetry segment of Creative Writing, into short-story writing. It was hard to make her not myself, or some egotistical imaginative version of myself, and even though she still is, in some respects, I've arrived where I wanted to. I've developed a plot that I like. I might actually try to write a fictional book.

My dreams lately have been filled with profanity and people making fun of me. I don't feel angry, or like my self-esteem has plummeted, but maybe it has. I had to read aloud a short story to my peers to be critiqued, and a painting I don't like was shown to my class, so maybe that's why.

It's good to get some profanity out there somewhere.

Last weekend I attended some of a conference, or gathering, or shin-dig, for poets. Karen Solie, Michael Trussler, Dan Tysdal, and Brenda Schmidt. I went to a poetry reading, and listened to Karen Solie and Michael Trussler speak, or present. It was good. I might join the Saskatchewan Writer's Guild. But it is 55 dollars. Maybe I'll wait till I have a full-time job.

When I told Daniel I want to try to publish some works, throughout my lifetime, he said "no you aren't. You're a teacher, not a writer." Ha.