(no subject)
Ssssssso classes start tomorrow. I'm kinda excited, I guess. I really enjoyed Fiona last year, she's kind of the perfect teacher for me in the strangest ways. I can talk to other teachers more easily sometimes, but she knows exactly how to challenge me, which is kind of impressive. I've had teachers point out that I skate by, but she does it in a way that makes it easier for me to do something about it. Now if I can write a conference paper on Star Trek to rival my Wonder Woman paper from last semester, I will be inordinately pleased.
Have a crazy ridic White Rabbit icon from Shore Leave. My nerdom knows no bounds.
William Shatner's my idol. He's also a pretty good writer. Most entertained I've been in quite a while.
I worked so hard to get into this fiction workshop, and I'm actually kind of terrified of it. It's just. How the fuck am I going to produce anything? I lost interest in my story from last year, I can't get the new one I was talking to Tim about for ever to go anywhere, and the few flashes of ideas I get die by the time I grab a pen. Maybe I'm meant to work in a cubical for the rest of my life. I don't see how I could ever write a book. And I'm so deep in debt from SLC, I will never be able to buy a house. I usually don't worry about money shit but there is this constant feeling in my gut and the back of my throat that I could only possibly explain as pure and unadulterated panic before I stomp it down. I don't know what happened, but until this summer, I've known what I was doing with my life. Now I know what it's like, being that directionless college student. It blows.
Brian pointed out something when I told him all about this, which was nothing new, but nice to hear. Something about being so focused on defining ourselves by what we do that we get caught up in it. I've been calling myself a writer since elementary school, and I'm clearly not. I can't even call myself a hack because nothing ever comes of what I do. Wow this is kind of depressing. Fuck it, I need to go shower.
Have a crazy ridic White Rabbit icon from Shore Leave. My nerdom knows no bounds.
William Shatner's my idol. He's also a pretty good writer. Most entertained I've been in quite a while.
I worked so hard to get into this fiction workshop, and I'm actually kind of terrified of it. It's just. How the fuck am I going to produce anything? I lost interest in my story from last year, I can't get the new one I was talking to Tim about for ever to go anywhere, and the few flashes of ideas I get die by the time I grab a pen. Maybe I'm meant to work in a cubical for the rest of my life. I don't see how I could ever write a book. And I'm so deep in debt from SLC, I will never be able to buy a house. I usually don't worry about money shit but there is this constant feeling in my gut and the back of my throat that I could only possibly explain as pure and unadulterated panic before I stomp it down. I don't know what happened, but until this summer, I've known what I was doing with my life. Now I know what it's like, being that directionless college student. It blows.
Brian pointed out something when I told him all about this, which was nothing new, but nice to hear. Something about being so focused on defining ourselves by what we do that we get caught up in it. I've been calling myself a writer since elementary school, and I'm clearly not. I can't even call myself a hack because nothing ever comes of what I do. Wow this is kind of depressing. Fuck it, I need to go shower.