Writers are strange animals. We are indecisive and strong, reveling in every second of our ambivalence. We perch on the fence of every issue like cats. Homeless, or just enjoying the moonlight?

And today the fence was the stage. The reading eighth period went well -- a good turnout. Everyone did a marvelous job, and, if I do say so myself, we held the audience in the palm our of collective hand.

Every time that a reading rolls around, I imagine some great feat for myself, modeled after previous creative writing students who possessed any kind of charisma or mystique. There is this place that you can take an audience that is entirely inside of whatever you're reading, which invariably is entirely inside you. Even if the reader is talking about pajamas or back yards, or the way their skin feels after a long day, for a few brief moments you have a window through which to observe -- a kind of false connection that makes you a quiet observer. You steal peeks when they think you aren't able to see.

And mostly, I fail miserably in this respect. I try to make that connection with the audience, but instead leave them with a lot of dry sentences and a shaky voice. This year, it's like I suddenly understand the mood of the audience. This year I was able to relax and forget they were there. Maybe this just has a lot to do with the fact that I've stopped trying to look up (I make it a goal for next year).

I don't think I was stellar, but I was proud. I am proud, rather. Everything went smoothly. There were a few genuine compliments made by people I don't know -- their authenticity enhanced by "I liked 'Plates' a lot better. The second one wasn't as appealing. But you did really well," or genuine surprise at where my writing's come with its "comedic timing." My parents were in the back row, and Ian, in the fourth. He held up a sign he and Mark made in the studio while skipping Psychology today (we haven't had a real class in what seems like -- or probably is -- weeks. Today Leonard had us help him stuff envelopes. We listened to Avenue Q). In capital letters, "BURN IT DOWN" was spray-painted on. Ian and Mark are all about spray paint.

Today was the first day that I felt proud of myself in a long time.