Return to Squaw

Sometimes it's not a good idea to return to the past.

For example, I probably shouldn't ever look like this again:



Okay, I never really looked like that. I've been playing with Yearbook Yourself 2009. Although, my sister has some pretty scary photos of me from the 80s, the era of big hair, that I'm hoping she burns soon. It wasn't a flattering decade.

Anyway, I'm back at the Community of Writers at Squaw Valley, and it's cool, but kind of weird too. I'm not doing the workshop this year and I like that I can attend the panel discussions, and craft talks without the pressure of giving feedback and the worry about my own writing being critiqued.

But at the same time, it's odd to be here, but not one of the participants. In some ways it's exactly the same as it was last year. I see all of the same kinds of people (including my type--horrifying as that is) but I'm looking at it from the outside, instead of experiencing it from within.

Okay, that sounds bizarre. And I don't think it was a mistake to come here, like a mullet and Crue t-shirt would be a mistake. But it is...strange.

I must think more on this!