Phew.

I am having one of those moments wher I am completely in awe of writers -- Julie Czerneda in particular -- and feel like worshipping the very concept of writing, and of sci-fi, and of everything. And I am also loathing myself for not being Julie, because she's got one hell of a life and a career and really what would be cooler than to be her! I know I can't be but I'm just so intoxicated with the idea -- that's the word for it, intoxicated, like it's a drug almost. And I know I sound crazy right now but that's how I feel, completely high on literature and the possibilities that spring forth every time you open up a new book and nothing that I can say or do will ever do justice to this feeling but I'm feeling it right now, it's in my blood and pumping through my veins and it makes me want to get up and DO something, BE someone, and I think that thought it's crazy it's GOOD.

Mmmmm...natural highs are the best.

So I was re-reading my previous entry and I realized how high I sounded. I promise, the only thing I was high on was the power of the written word. Sometimes I get into this literary moment where I'm absorbed into the magnitude of writing and the writer's life and just being a writer, saying I'm a writer -- it puts me in the company of so many amazing people who have changed the world in the craziest ways and I don't know if I'm fit to be a Writer (with the capital w) but I sure as hell know I'm doing everything in my power to be one.

Didn't do too much today, or really I did, but I don't feel like I've got the energy to discuss it all. We're going on a field trip tomorrow to the De Young Museum of Modern Art in San Fran, which should be fun mostly because it's in San Fran. I feel bad because I haven't written to any of the friends (or family!) I said I would write to. It's just that this is so crazy, and I love being here...it's a great feeling. I am high on life. What could be better?