on the work weeks and modern british literature...
And just as soon as I've returned, a load of work is dumped upon me...
So much to do (mainly complain), so little time (ample time, if not for amount squandered while complaining). Oh well, so it goes. Over the next two weeks, I need to accomplish a number of things, including an analytical essay of Dorris Lessing's tome The Golden Notebook, a book review/in-class presentation over Graham Greene's The Power and The Glory, and my third and final submission for the fiction workshop. Not too bad, I suppose, but I'm lacking in the idea department for the third short story. I have a feeling that I'll end up writing something from the viewpoint of a college student, as I'm tired of trying to crank out stories about failing marriages, military brats playing baseball, etc. Maybe the process will be less daunting if, for once, I write about something I've experienced personally. Also, though it has yet to be assigned, there's a 20-page research paper looming over the horizon.
The Baton Rouge trip was nice. I did, however, feel rather old throughout the entire weekend, especially during gameday. As I watched fraternity brothers guzzle mouthfuls upon mouthfuls of bourbon, I couldn't help but take note that the half-decade-long period of my life that shall here be known as "Blackout Fest '03-'07: 2000 Days o' Drankin'" had come to pass. Kind of a refreshing feeling, really.
I don't get it, it's like I'm trying to break a record for the most consecutive lousy journal updates. Is my life really this uninteresting? Maybe it is. That's frightening.
Also: Because my life has quickly shifted from a somewhat interesting progression of nonsense days into an unquestionably boring routine of fretting about short story writing, I've found myself starved for material.
As such, if anyone who reads this (if anyone still reads this--I can hardly blame you if you don't) has an idea for a story (something interesting from your life, a recent occurence, what have you) please leave a comment about it here.
So much to do (mainly complain), so little time (ample time, if not for amount squandered while complaining). Oh well, so it goes. Over the next two weeks, I need to accomplish a number of things, including an analytical essay of Dorris Lessing's tome The Golden Notebook, a book review/in-class presentation over Graham Greene's The Power and The Glory, and my third and final submission for the fiction workshop. Not too bad, I suppose, but I'm lacking in the idea department for the third short story. I have a feeling that I'll end up writing something from the viewpoint of a college student, as I'm tired of trying to crank out stories about failing marriages, military brats playing baseball, etc. Maybe the process will be less daunting if, for once, I write about something I've experienced personally. Also, though it has yet to be assigned, there's a 20-page research paper looming over the horizon.
The Baton Rouge trip was nice. I did, however, feel rather old throughout the entire weekend, especially during gameday. As I watched fraternity brothers guzzle mouthfuls upon mouthfuls of bourbon, I couldn't help but take note that the half-decade-long period of my life that shall here be known as "Blackout Fest '03-'07: 2000 Days o' Drankin'" had come to pass. Kind of a refreshing feeling, really.
I don't get it, it's like I'm trying to break a record for the most consecutive lousy journal updates. Is my life really this uninteresting? Maybe it is. That's frightening.
Also: Because my life has quickly shifted from a somewhat interesting progression of nonsense days into an unquestionably boring routine of fretting about short story writing, I've found myself starved for material.
As such, if anyone who reads this (if anyone still reads this--I can hardly blame you if you don't) has an idea for a story (something interesting from your life, a recent occurence, what have you) please leave a comment about it here.