I'm in Iowa and it's awesome. I'm starting to realize that I can really do this whole "life" thing. I can feed myself and work on my own initiative and make friends--cool friends, friends who I like, friends who are my friends by choice and not because we're all there, or there's nobody else left. The feeding myself thing is the only weak link, actually. I'm so caught up in writing that it's hard to find spare time to eat. I'd been living off of vending machine beef jerky and bottled frappuccinos, which are ridiculously cheap around here, when my friend Sarah said "hey, do you guys want to buy some fruit?" We left with several mangoes apiece, pears, raspberries, cherries and salmon soba salad and feasted that night. Hannah kept avocados in her bag and ate them during break the next day with a spoon.

Iowa city is actually a pretty cool place. It's an artsy little town with some good thrift shops and poetry and prose readings on a daily basis. I've met several incredible writers in the four days that I've been here, of which the first didn't count.

Everybody has good grammar. Beyond that, each person here can manipulate words. The afternoon workshop classes, where we spend an hour each critiquing three pieces, is INTENSE. We all read each others' work several times before workshop because it's good and easy to read. I get mark-ups with hilarious comments and intelligent revision strategies.

My teacher is SO COOL. His name is Nam Le. We're all somewhat obsessed with him. He's Vietnamese and has an Australian accent and he was a practicing lawyer for a few years before he quit to be a writer. He rides a dark red motorcycle, which he parks illegally, "but you don't really have to pay those tickets unless they impound your vehicle," he says. "Then it really bites." He's unbelievably intense and smart and interesting and there's absolutely no bullshit in his class. He has no problem with telling us we're bullshitting. He loves it when we fight each other over a piece, and I've become a regular combatant against a girl named Elisabeth. We don't dislike each other outside of class, but we disagree a lot. "Watching you two is like watching a ping-pong game," says Gillian, "but I'm never sure who's winning."

Here I am at my best. I'm articulate. I'm sharp. I'm confident. I stand up straight. I write constantly. I'm affeccionate and at peace and never judgmental. I love it.

I can't wait to go to college.