My Life on a Plate

Turn Turn Turn

To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season. turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven.

I'm not sure how I feel about that song. I find it sad and haunting but very profound. I'm not sure how I feel about what I've decided to do regarding my writing class either. Tonight could be the last time I ever go and now I'm starting to feel uncertain and rather upset about a decision I was certain about a few weeks ago. Natural human reaction or an error of judgement?

Since childhood I've had obsessions. Starting with stuffed animals then moving to The Beatles followed by swimming, teaching, reading, badminton, tape recording, ten pin bowling, child rearing, knitting, watercolours, computer games and glass painting. These are the interests which have motivated me in life and contributed towards who I am today. I still dabble in a few of them now and again but on the whole they've been phases and now their seasons are over.

Writing is a different thing, it's something I've done all my life without really realising it. It was only when I joined the class five years ago it became more of an obsession. It has sustained me and become an important part of my everyday life and for that I am grateful.

Five years ago the class was a lively, stimulating group of around twenty held in a registered college. I loved it, looked forward to going and put everything into the assignments. Today that class is down to four and held in a hired hall. It doesn't stimulate me to write and the assignments have become a chore. I have learnt a lot over five years but now feel I'm gaining nothing.

The official last session for this term is tonight, but the tutor has decided to continue for another four weeks. I do not see enthusiasm on his face but pound signs in his eyes. The other three have agreed to carry on, but I have declined. I do not feel I want to pay out for something I no longer enjoy. Unless the numbers rise significantly in January I doubt I will return. So this could be the end of another era. I keep telling myself not to feel guilty; it's not my fault things have deteriorated to this point but at the same time I'm a little scared of what may happen with no class to give me the proverbial kick up the backside.

Whether I can motivate myself to continue writing remains to be seen. I will always write, but whether I have the staying power to work on new ideas or bigger projects I do not know. There are many distractions and other things I want to do, but I'd hate to think I'll become lazy and not create new stories and poems.

One of the many things I have unfinished in my folder is a piece entitled 'Turn Turn Turn.' It was well received; maybe I should develop that as a way of starting out on this new phase in life.

It's strange how difficult leaving something behind is but I feel 'the time has come,' as the walrus said to the carpenter.