This won't make sense
I hate the steeple chase. I hate the steeple chase. I hate it. HaTe. Hate the steeple chase. Haaate. It. Hate it. Hate the steeple chase. Do not like. Don't want to do. Hate it. Hate the steeple chase. Hate steeple chase, hate. I do not feel more expressive. I do not feel more interested. I do not feel as though I am finding a new way to tell the story. I feel forced. I feel confined. I feel strictified and blocked in and prevented from doing what I want. This does not help me, this is not inspiring me, it is not progressing me nor does it seem to progress my writing. I find it difficult to even work how my narrative has to flow, because the gigantic blocks coming up tends to stop it dead. I do not feel like working around it. I do not feel liek working through it. I feel like knocking it down.
I do not want to do the steeple chase. I do not like the steeple chase, nor does it spark my interest, nor does it spark my creativity, nor does it spark my interest, nor does it help me, nor does it feel like I grow. I feel like my head in a wahil, like my head is in a wall, like my head is crammed into a wall and I am being forced to get my hands and feet stuck as well, rather than make any progress at getting my head out. It feels contrived.
I do not think this is helpful. This feels like a good beginner's excersize. This feels like something to be broken out of a different place, rather than a narrative that is supposed to have already been worked on, being worked on, is something worked on in the future that continues passed this class. This is supposed to be helpful, it is not, does not feel so, does not feel helpful or generous or like I am being taught anything other than I do not like the steeple chase.
All the ideas I see would work for other things, not the story I am working on - and that is something I already could have told you, for one thing. It is not something that I needed an assignement to tell me. This is supposed to help us move the story, find out things we did not know, figure out how to help. It is not. It does not. I do not see how it could, unless a story is in its infancy, and you are still figuring out how to tell it or how it needs to be told. This is not the case, does not feel like the case. It has done nothing but to inspire me to write this journal entry, which is counter-productive, and is not in the normal way most procrastination is. I am in the middle of doing the steeple chase and it does nothing but make me angry, though word being fucking stupid does not help.
And yes, this was almost a facebook post but it got long. I may not go to class tomorrow. I feel shitty and stressed and tired and don't feel like spending four hours in a writing class not doing any writing. (PROTIP: The class is four hours and twenty minutes long.)
I do not want to do the steeple chase. I do not like the steeple chase, nor does it spark my interest, nor does it spark my creativity, nor does it spark my interest, nor does it help me, nor does it feel like I grow. I feel like my head in a wahil, like my head is in a wall, like my head is crammed into a wall and I am being forced to get my hands and feet stuck as well, rather than make any progress at getting my head out. It feels contrived.
I do not think this is helpful. This feels like a good beginner's excersize. This feels like something to be broken out of a different place, rather than a narrative that is supposed to have already been worked on, being worked on, is something worked on in the future that continues passed this class. This is supposed to be helpful, it is not, does not feel so, does not feel helpful or generous or like I am being taught anything other than I do not like the steeple chase.
All the ideas I see would work for other things, not the story I am working on - and that is something I already could have told you, for one thing. It is not something that I needed an assignement to tell me. This is supposed to help us move the story, find out things we did not know, figure out how to help. It is not. It does not. I do not see how it could, unless a story is in its infancy, and you are still figuring out how to tell it or how it needs to be told. This is not the case, does not feel like the case. It has done nothing but to inspire me to write this journal entry, which is counter-productive, and is not in the normal way most procrastination is. I am in the middle of doing the steeple chase and it does nothing but make me angry, though word being fucking stupid does not help.
And yes, this was almost a facebook post but it got long. I may not go to class tomorrow. I feel shitty and stressed and tired and don't feel like spending four hours in a writing class not doing any writing. (PROTIP: The class is four hours and twenty minutes long.)