Where did August go? I don’t mean August Leffler, played by Shay Astar, who was Tommy Solomon’s girlfriend on Third Rock from the Son. I don’t know where she is, either, but that’s not who I was talking about.
I woke up this morning and faced the grim fact that it is, indeed September. Today is rife with possibility and fraught with stress. (Ah the old rife and fraught. World’s worst snack mix.)
What does September mean? It means back to school, back to work. For me it means back to tamping down the panic with coffee and self-hypnosis, because here it is the fifth of September and I am still without a reliable paycheck. I can’t have a visible sheen of panic because today is the reception for the Langdon Review of the arts in Texas. I have a chance to shake hands and mingle and nod sagely about the arts and perhaps my own brilliance for an hour or so. Then tomorrow I am going to participate in various symposia ( I am delighted that I know the plural of symposium right off the top of my rattled head.) offered by artists. Tomorrow night I will be attending the performance of the one that brung me (Great bluegrass name, by the way.) SceneShop will be performing. Actor/Director Steven Alan McGaw is the person who nominated me for the Langdon review.
But now, I am very antsy and angsty. I need to work on three short stories because that is from where the next tiny amount of cash is coming. In the bigger picture, I need to call FWISD and find out if I should plan to attend their upcoming in-service for substitute teachers so I can start the educational equivalent of migrant work. (I’ve already figured out a spin on that experience so I don’t actively want to stab myself in the eye.)
I also have a story I want to develop for an upcoming writing contest.
So you see, as much as I want to be sad for August passing, I am now preparing for September to Leave (I was trying very hard to make an autumn leaves thing happen there.)