I'm feeling sort of, like, whatever
I hardly wrote at all over February. I'm really upset at myself for that. Especially since I wasn't replacing my writing time with anything useful like reading a lot or studying extra hard or anything. I just couldn't put words together and make them do what I wanted. Which is bad, since that's pretty much the only thing I've ever been able to do well, and now I can't do it at all.
As far as real life things go, I applied for a creative writing course at university for next year (under the assumption that I'm going to regain my ability to write at SOME POINT before September), and also at a job at Heritage Park in Calgary for the summer. I have some measure of confidence about getting into the creative writing course (even though I'm anxious that the writing I submitted in my portfolio has glaring errors in it that I managed to miss), and no confidence at all about the job at Heritage Park.
Ehhhhhh.
I'm going to blame the winter for my moodiness. I'm ready for winter to end. Like now.
As far as real life things go, I applied for a creative writing course at university for next year (under the assumption that I'm going to regain my ability to write at SOME POINT before September), and also at a job at Heritage Park in Calgary for the summer. I have some measure of confidence about getting into the creative writing course (even though I'm anxious that the writing I submitted in my portfolio has glaring errors in it that I managed to miss), and no confidence at all about the job at Heritage Park.
Ehhhhhh.
I'm going to blame the winter for my moodiness. I'm ready for winter to end. Like now.