As part of my lifestyle makeover, I've decided to be nicer to most people. Some people make it difficult to be nice to them. Case in point: classmate Julian. I don't know what it is, but we've established some sort of adversarial relationship. I think that it's because he's British. Well, that's the only theory I've got for now. But the adversarial-ness doesn't add up to much. Just friendly caustic comments that are tossed back and forth.

But to instill some sort of good feelings/vibes in my life, I've decided to try to talk to most people I encounter. I'm not so good with the small talk. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I can't fake caring about trivialities. I just don't care.

I put all this goodness to use today before class. (I've just realized that maybe I'm trying to counter Josie's notion that I'm inherently and quietly evil. I don't want to have to wear the sparkly devil's horns she so thoughtfully bought for me.) I decided to have a conversation with a particular classmate who sometimes drives me up the wall. I knew that she had done something this weekend in which I was interested, so I figured that I could hold a decent conversation with her for a lenght of time. I was right. I could, and I did. And it was going quite well until she started on the infamous topic of her novel. She hauled out the same old line "and I didn't even know he was a she until I was writing about him taking off his hat and a cascade of blonde/red hair fell down to her shoulders". Oy! Not again. I could see a small group of first years who were sitting at the table behind her all stop, nudge each other, and half listen while smiling at me crazily from behind her back. They are all just so lucky that I'm not their mentor because I would so lie to them about Diana's class. But I'm not, so I won't get to taste sweet revenge. My classmate carried on for a while. When she stopped to take a breath, I jumped at the chance for escape, which I did. And I felt a little bad about it. However...I needed to escape.

But now that I'm thinking about it, I still have to admire my classmate's conviction in herself. She always signs her emails with "writer", and then lists all her works in process (I have none.) She also attends writer's festivals and workshops. I don't. She calls herself a writer. I don't. And I admire her for that.

But if she would only shut up about it.