Dreams and Wishes

This cold doesn't seem to want to go away. But I shouldn't complain -- it could be worse. In spite of the headache and runny nose and cough, I went up to the library today to get some books. Found a really interesting one by Susan Cooper called Dreams and Wishes. It's a bunch of essays on writing for children, and although I've only read the first three chapters, it's already one of my favorite books. I also got Greenwitch (book three in The Dark Is Rising series) and the first two Lemony Snicket books.

I finished the first draft of a short story last night, "Too Late," which I'll be sending to a few publishers (for my Writing for Publication class). Allow me to ramble for a few moments. Part of me wants very much to be a writer, an artist, a musician. The creative arts have long pulled on me -- every time I see a good piece of art, hear good music, or read a good book, I feel driven, compelled, spurred on to make art, music, and literature. Is this normal? I feel almost like the creative arts are my calling in some obscure way, like it's something I should and must do. As if there were a masterpiece inside me waiting to get out. And then I look at my future and wonder what I should do for a career. It's hard to support a family on an artist's or a writer's paycheck. And so I feel pressured to get a "real" degree (like Computer Science) and a "real" job. Of course there's a great deal of sense in that, which is why I think I'll most likely end up with a "normal" day job and attend to all my creative outlets on the side. But would I be happy that way? Only time will tell.

Watched a little bit of a History Channel show on sewers today with my roommate. Fascinating, really -- did you know that there are over 1,300 miles of sewers in Paris? If you stretched them out, one in front of the other, they'd reach all the way to Istanbul. There were some interesting inventions created to help clean the sewers out and keep it flowing in the right direction.