Jed Told Me to Write A Blog Post, So I Did

Just when I thought I was changed into a dedicated and disciplined writer, I got a little busy and well, suddenly I'm roasting pork tenderloins and cutting up watermelon for a tiny little boy who likes to walk around with my iPod, headphones dragging on the floor, little green square clipped onto his pocket. Cute and fun, but no pages done…

One of the things I did this weekend was go to the Swiss Chalet with my dad. We reminisced about our family's Swiss Chalet past--we used to go every Saturday when I was young. We also marveled at the decor. In a hardware theme, vintage Singer sewing machines, saws and handheld washboards adorned the walls. No skis, no snow, no Alps. The pictures of Chalet windows with shutters and window boxes of flowers were still there, but the waitresses no longer wear polyester Swiss Miss uniforms. I feel old. And yet, the fries are still really good, especially when dipped in the barbecue sauce, which is no doubt a mixture of chicken grease, trans fat, high fructose corn syrup and whatever shade of red dye is rust-colored. It's the WNY-southern Ontario version of trailer trash cuisine, but I am no longer the snob I was when I was a teeneager and thought I would do better than my parents. I’ve done worse, actually.

Anyway, while sitting in a vinyl booth, crowded into a small section with all the other people in the restaurant, watching the waitresses sweep as we ate, I told my dad I was thinking of getting an MFA.

What's that going to do for you? he asked.

I tried to explain, immersion in writing, perhaps a teaching job, yadda yadda yadda yadda.

Did I try this before? Didn't I think a college degree from an expensive school would guarantee a bright future?

Sometimes I miss my young and arrogant self, who wasn't so easily defeated.

So, I'm thinking MFA, and still not sure. I guess I'll keep you posted

And I promise, tomorrow I will revise the story I plan to submit to Glimmer Train at the end of the month.