Floater

My mom called me a floater yesterday on the phone.

I called her back after the whole "she went on a date thing" so she wouldn't feel bad about going out with a dude that she likes. Though she still weirded me out.

I sometimes feel my life is stunted because moving on would mean that my role as the "child everyone can rely on" would diminish. Much to my pleasure. The pressure of being that kid is horrible.

My brother once said that i wasn't suppose to lead an interesting life just the right life. At 18 this phrase was even stupid to my ears. Everyone in my family thinks because i read books and go to school that my life is going to be just average. Despite all the actions which prove otherwise (my restlessness, spontaneity, humor, and drive) there is still this look that i get like "you don't have a boyfriend, you don't go to parties, and you have a book in your hand...boring".

I hate this because a part of me doesn't do half the things i want because I know it would involve me drifting further and further away from my family...especially my mom. Our relationships is weird. Good weird. We get along like closest friends, but i know that we are dependent on one another, and this dependency is holding us in place.

It's like we are holding this rope that binds us yet we are heading in different directions now. Not bad directions, but just somewhere will distance will change our relationship.The further we walk in opposite ways, the further and further we get from the dependency we have relied on.

This isn't a bad thing because the rope we hold will always represent our love, but our relationship will inevitably change. And i guess this is a little frightening. At this time we have come to the point where the rope is so tight as we stand on either ends. I want to let go because i see how close the life I want is, but I'm still a little hesitant because i am a little comfortable just standing there with her at the opposite end.

This was how i felt, until last night when she called me a floater. We were talking about Marie's potential new boyfriend (he deserves a whole post) . Every time i talk about relationships (which isn't much these days) my mom manages to subtly say"why don't you have one". It isn't phrased like that of course it usually goes "whenever you get one"

For the most part I've been letting the comments slide, but they are becoming a little much. It's like hey i know i don't have a boyfriend need i be reminded of it. Anyway, Marie's potential new boyfriend is as sissy just like the last one, and my mom kind asked me why Marie has no problems getting a boyfriend but i don't

Mom: it's just aggression, you don't have it.

Me: I'm not an aggressive person, i don't like to push myself onto people.

Mom: Yeah but you don't just want to float. That's what you are a "floater", you don't make any waves.

Ouch!

I don't know why this hurt my feelings so much, probably because i feel like i do make waves, or a least ripples. I understand that my life isn't the pinnacle of social activities but does that mean that i am useless floater of a person. Does that mean that I'm just average?

I'm not a floater. Maybe a glider, and observer. But i make waves, my own very small waves but waves nonetheless, it just sucks that that's how my mom sees me.

I don't know about this.

My mom went on a date.

"A sort of date" she called it.

"A sort of hanging out between two friends" she continued

"We had martini's" she chuckled

"It was a good time." She said more to herself than to me.

For some reason this unsettles me. I don't know why. She could even tell it bothered me on the phone, i became unresponsive and detached adding some "really" and "wow's" in so she wouldn't think that i hung up on her.

It's weird. I've never had to share my mom's attention with anyone else. I feel like a jealous cat. "She's mine" i want to yell to the guy with a weird name. With my back arched in a defensive stance so he knows i mean business.

"she's mine" i want to growl "there's no place for you here."

Someone's getting restless.

I've got the itch again. Dammit.

I was doing absolutely fine until i got to work on Monday and felt the happenings of restlessness coming on.

If college has taught me anything (which at this point is: Easy Mac is suitable for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Dressing up for class is stupid. If at first you don't succeed...take a nap...and then start all over), it is that i am a very restless person. I like doing several things at one time, i get bored with repetitive activity, and i hate feelin unproductive.

My mom says i have so much energy i should donate it to some people. Trust me I'm not a hyperactive person, my personality is calm and collected with a ounce of fun, wit and sarcasm, but when I'm not doing something (be it singing to music, typing at the key board, cleaning my room, walking) i just feel lazy.

My whole problem with grad is that I'm kind of sick of sitting in classrooms all day. I get up, go to class, try not to fall asleep, and then end of doing so anyway. I've been frustrated mostly by Mr. Douchebag because his teaching style doesn't allow us to be productive. We've sat the whole semester, read each other's paper, and I've at least tried not to cry from boredom ( at the last minute he thought it would be fun to make us do presentations, probably because he is sick of hearing his own voice. Of course I'm not doing it, for many reason. Nerves 15%, unpreparedness 35%, GRE exam next week, writing portfolio due, papers, studying 50%)

As a child i was always filled for a need of exploration and learning, and unfortunately that has not subsided. Ever so often i get this almost unquenchable need to go off and do something. My mind gets set on going to a place i have physically never been too. My legs get fidgety with a need to run and jump, but mainly heart fills with a yearning that consumes everything that i am. I want to see things, i want to experience things, i want to escape from the confinement of my life and just go offwith a camera in one hand a book in the other, and comfy shoes on my feet.

My boss (who i have to go in more detail about later) once said that in your 20's there is window of opportunity that makes you feel you can do anything. She wanted to be a painter she was 22, but the older she got, the smaller the window of opportunity (called nerves) became, and she was too frightened to do anything by the time she was in her 30's.

I don't worry about the window closing for me. I get freaked about my aspirations and the future like any one else, but there will always be this need (like i have now) to go off and do something. I'm so sick of just waiting idly, I'm ready to go off and explore. It's impulsive I know but behind my cool exterior has always been this ounce of impulsiveness that i try not to act on...but sometimes i wonder where it would take me. The adventure could be pretty interesting.

Enough of that. I still have an 8 page paper due. I finished my Jane Austen paper, and i must say it kicks ass. I was pretty surprised by that.

In other totally unrelated news. 3 weeks ago i lost a book. It's called A Map of the World, and other than it being wickedly awesome i have to write a paper on it in two weeks (for a final). So upon losing the book, i was frantic because i hadn't finished the ending( and i had a test on the book) and kind pissed because i hate losing things.

After 3 weeks i figured the book was long gone and that there was nothing i could do about it. I would go buy the book or get it from the library. On Monday i didn't go to Mr. Douchebags class because i had to watch a movie for my film class. Today when i walked in kind of late to Mr. Douchebags class my book was on a desk in the corner. I couldn't grab it because Mr. Douchebag set his laptop next to it. For the whole class period i was like "is that my book, what the hell is my book doing there, who the hell had my book, maybe that isn't my book, but then what are the odds that someone else is reading this book".

After class i waited until everyone left and snuck back in the room to get the book. I figured if it wasn't mine...i would keep it. I'm horrible i know. But upon inspection all my writing, drawing, and green undelined markings where in the book.

But the weird thing was on the inside of the cover someone wrote "U R Kool". Someone is book stealer. Who takes a book, and then returns it to the scene of the crime with the phrase "U R Kool" written with a pink highligher.

HMMMMM....INTERESTING.

Crunch Time

I'm so tired. I have an 5 page paper and 8 page paper due Thursday. So far i have 2 pages (okay lets me honest 1 1/2 pages) done on the 5 page paper, and the title for my eight page paper. I'm on roll....yeah....right...

Thanksgiving was awkward. The night i came home my brother decided to bring his new girlfriend over (when my mom wasn't home) and let's say i heard some things no sister should ever hear. EVER.

I told my mom the next day, who promised she wouldn't say anything until after Thanksgiving (for my sake) so she spent the whole weekend giving him the evil glare and i spent the whole week avoiding his eyes. GROSS.

The actually Turkey day went well. My mom made a lot of food, i over ate, and my brother wasn't a complete ass.

I called Marie so we could hang out on Friday, and so the label of "World's Worst Friend" would be taken away from me. I actually had a good time. Though she did talk about school, her friends, this new dude who she swears she doesn't like yadda yadda yadda. I listened, nodded my head, and i think inserted some sentences. We bought shoes, played Guitar Hero (we suck at it) and saw August Rush (her pick not mine). Though Jonathan Rhys Meyers is incredibly hot, the movie was a little sappy. It was sweeter than candy. A bunch of senior citizens and teenage girls ,who whistled every time he came on screen, were there. Marie and I sat for 90 minutes rolling our eyes and tapping out feet (the music was pretty good)

Came back to school on Sunday, slept, ate, slept, ate, slept ate. When my mom got back home she told my brother that by March he has to move, she used her serious voice and everything. I usually would say she was bullshitting but she seemed pretty serious. I guess having sex in house was crossing the line.

I of course felt a little bad. I hate feeling like a tattletale but i had no other choice. I had to cover my ears with two pillows just to drown the noise out, and i am still traumatized. Yuck.

Overall a pretty good time home. But i am back at school and it's crunch time.

2 more weeks of classes. 3 recommendations for Grad school in the bag. Not so worried anymore about frivolous things. A couple of exams thrown my way. And a new pair of Ugs to warm my feet. I'm prepared for the next two weeks and feeling pretty good about it.

Tired Eyes

Getting to Friday is becoming very hard these days.

I spend the whole week running around trying to accomplish this, finish that, meet with professor, take test, go to class, eat...and maybe get some sleep. By Friday my eyes are so heavy from tiredness that i crash wherever a cozy spot is.

Today i had no other choice but to find a corner in the library to rest my head. For 15 minutes i laid down, trying to catch my breath as everything continues to rush at me all at once.

My head is just buzzing with a million and one things, and even though i talk about it in on this blog and with my therapist, i am not any closer to sorting it all out.

It's all about my indecision at this point.

Indecision is the name of my game and it is kicking my ass physically, mentally, and emotionally.

I won't go into it. I don't want to bombard my own jounral with anymore headache inducing thoughts about post college life. I'm beginninng to feel like the narrator of some Reality Bites inspired Blog, despite not being apart of Generation X or having a really cool love interest played by Ethan Hawke.

I will admit however that i am extrodinarily tired and fearful. I'm tired from all the stuff i have to do to graduate in August ( yep. August. Not May.). I'm tired of feeling like no matter what i do i will always be two steps behind and struggling to catch up. And i'm fearful that after all that is said and done the whole busting my ass to graduate will be for nothing because i still won't have any clue what i want to do with myself.

Fact Checker

Last night while i was laying around in my very awesome socks (mailed to me by my mother who was concerned about my cold feet. Yes, i have extremely cold feet. I don't know what to do with them. They are small. And get cold easily. Damn)



Any who. While i was laying down i heard a knock on my door. I'm not really a fan of people knocking on my door. Cause you figure if they are knocking it's because it's an unexpected visit, and in a dorm, at least for me, unexpected visits are not always good.



The last unexpected visit was when two very craptatsic RA's chastised my room. Since then my room is still very "messy" and i don't answer doors anymore. But because the people in this dorm are very persistent, they will slide notes under your door if they can't reach you. I have about 10 pieces of paper that has piled up in corner. Events, Guest Speakers, Yadda.



Last night however i got a note under the door saying that i have not purchased a meal plan for the dorm... which is mandatory to live here. In the spirit of promoting a communal space this dorm requires you to eat in a dinning hall for dinner. Four times out of the week you have to subject---i mean sit among peers and faculty members and have dinner.



This sounds wonderful, if i was totally in to that crap. But I'm not, and i definitely didn't want to fork over any money for food I'm not going to eat. Unfortunately i have no choice in the matter unless i want to be kicked out of the dorm with my cold feet and cute socks.



I had to fork over 140.00 dollars (they pro-rated the normal cost because it is so late in the semester) today and now i have to figure out a way to abide by the rules without sitting uncomfortably in a dining hall scratching my eyes out.



I figure i can just run up to the dinning hall when dinner starts. Slide my card, and then leave. Or grab something small like dessert or a cookie. Munch on it in a corner and then leave. I know this most logical thing to do is eat dinner there (since i am paying for it) and be done with it...but i just don't want to to do that. AT ALL.



F*cking fact checkers who manage to find out that i had not paid the meal plan fee at the beginning of the year. I thought my magical ability to go unnoticed would work, but no...not this time.



I'm going to do a dry run today at 5. See if i can slip by unnoticed. I haven't done the slip in a very long time, i'm a little rusty at it.

Anyway

I think i have royally pissed off Mr. Douchebag. Although our meeting a couple of weeks ago was very successful and pleasant my opinions about him have not changed. He's still boring, his class still sucks, and if i had to make the decision over again i would rather hold him to high fabricated esteem than realize how much of a stinker he is.

I guess after our meeting he thought i would warm up to him more, like the rest of the kids in class. The kids who have shown interest in Creative Writing approach him all the time after class, ask him for recommendations, and talk to him like he's an old friend. Despite that one meeting, i have not done what the other kids have done. I still ignore him, i still pay marginal attention in class, and he will be that last person i would ever ask for a recommendation. I treat him like i did before the meeting because in my mind nothing has changed.


However he now gives me this very cute but weird look during class. Almost a pout, snarl, frown mixed with annoyance and disappointment. I at first thought "maybe it's all in my mind", I have a tendency of doing that. But today when we got into our groups to discuss the interview pieces we turned in 2 weeks ago ( I interviewed my Dad about my half-brother. One day I'll explain the story in full detail), i'm starting to think "I may have made him mad"



I wont even get to the fact that The Writer and The Other Dude in My Group didn't even talk about my piece. They just went back and forth talking about how great each others pieces were while i sat scratching my face. If they each didn't mention girls in their previous essay, i would have expected a full on make out session, thats how bad they were going at it.



They threw (handed back) my paper even though we had 15 whole minutes to discuss it (Mr. Douchebag mentioned we could leave as soon as our groups were done, so they totally skipped mine to head out early). When i turned around Mr. Douchebag was standing over my shoulder, and i asked him if we were going to do group work on Friday since we didn't get to my piece



Instead of an answering Douchebag ignored me and started talking to The Writer about possibly publishing a piece in a student run literary journal (because publication looks good when are applying to grad school.)



I just stared at him like "did you just snub me..." and after getting no response the answer was clear.



Maybe i did something wrong. Maybe i should have sent a Thank You email, for helping me out. I don't know. Now i feel kind of mad, pissed,confused all while lacking 140.00 dollars.

Flattery will get you nowhere...Well i take that back.

There is a girl in my short story workshop who is a total asshole.

I know recently i have been on a "calling everyone a douche, asshole..." but seriously i have encountered the worst people.

And if she really wasn't that bad i would totally not call an asshole. But she is.

Really

She comes in late all the time(which doesn't bother) , but then has the balls to complain in class about who he knows what(which does bother me). She talks with a foreign accent, though she was born in America. Right down the street in fact.

I try to stay as far away from her as i can, because i seem to be a radar for douches and douchettes.

Because the heavens are against me she wound up in my short story group, and despite annoying the hell out of me she isn't that much trouble cause i usually ignore everything that comes out of her mouth.

The first time we introduce ourselves (when we first got in the short story group) She had this to say to me

LD: You look like a Felicia

Me: Yeah...that's my not my name though

LD: I know but you just remind me more of a Felicia. Can i call you Felicia

Me: No

?????

She later went on to rename another kid in our group. I was pretty annoyed by her renaming thing, but took it in stride because well...i wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. When she introduce herself however, it was with a fake name. LD is just some name she came up with and wants everyone to call her that. For that sole reason in class i call her by her given name.

After the first introduction she harassed me again:

LD: I think we work together

Me: do you work in the library?

LD: No but i swear we work together

Me: Well if you don't work in the library then we probably don't work together

LD: I'm pretty sure it's you though

She came back the next week after walking up to a girl at work who she thought was me( and realized it wasn't), which she later had to tell me this "news" during our class

LD: You were right we don't work together. Funny HUH.

No. Not funny. What the hell is wrong with this girl. I can't even concentrate in group because i am silently shooting daggers at her. She's pompous and crazy which is the worst kind. Today she came in with a huge hangover, i mean HUGE. She ran to the bathroom in the middle of class, her feet galloping down the hallway in a sprint so shouldn't throw up on herself.

When we got into groups, i made sure not to sit next to her because i didn't want barf on me at 8 in the morning. Apparently a hungover crazy lady is the rudest person in the world because she spent 10 minutes tearing this guys story to pieces to the point where i was even cringing. His story wasn't good don't get me wrong (athlete doesn't want to be an athlete, gets in a car crash, is paralyzed. YAWN), but there is a way of going about not liking a story with...kindness. She went on and on about how "this didn't make sense, and i didn't like this part where...". His face was beat red by the end of it. Me and the Monk just sat back in our seats and watched.

After the tirade i said something to him like: The flow and pacing was nice. Just to ease the tension.

When we finished work shopping his story, crazy drunk student turned to me and just stared. I thought she was going to say i looked like a Katie, Stephanie, or Jessica....so i was preparing my self for the eye roll and silent curse under my breath.

Instead with his lazy eyes and disheveled hair she said

LD: You look really smart. Like smart smart. My parents would love you.

Instead of rolling my eyes, I blushed

Me: thank you, that's really nice.

Dammit I'm a sucker for compliments, if that was a compliment.

Not holding my breath

For the past two weeks i have been running around trying to figure out if i am going to graduate in May or August. Because of the major change(literally and figuratively) i have had a lot of catching up to do.

My overly enthused Advisor exclaimed that i was going to be graduating in May. Which made me very happy

But then i went to do a senior checklist with someone in the English department only to get shot down. I in fact would not be graduating in May but instead August. Which made me kind of sad.

But after a cry, pout, and a cookie i figured i could take 6 classes next semester, and a maymester class just in time to graduate in August. So i head back to English department, give them my new plans for the upcoming semester only to be faced with a "Oh you can totally graduate in May"

At this point i have no f*cking clue when I'm graduating. May/ August/ Never. I kind of wish someone who give me the correct answers though so i don't have to go through the emotional roller coster of "am i or am i not"

It is very weird to think that i am going to be graduating college. I don't at all feel prepared for the real world. I wonder what it is like out there?

The Monk

There is this guy in my creative writing class who i call The Monk. Usually i am a little hesitant with religious people especially those who kind of where it on their sleeves. I think it has to do with my fear of being judged, and having someone tell me i am going to hell because i don't go to church or read the bible is not my idea of a good time.

Though i am still not a very religious peron i do respect some of those who are generally into the stuff, especially if it gives them to tools to be a better person. This is how The Monk is, he's my age but is one of those hippie orthodox religious dude, with curly hair and a beard. He is soft spoken, wears these brown boats every time i see him, and is a English major with a minor in religious studies.

There is something gentle about him, the way he walks, talks and interacts with the people in our class. If anything, i was hoping he would be in my short story workshop group, cause he's pleasant to be around.

And luckily he got paired with me and some other people.

His first story was called the Monk and the Artist. To sum it up quickly a monk encounters a girl in a dark alley who is troubled and needs help, but she keeps denying his help because she is against religion. However the monk is persistent, and she finds her faith in life again.

It was completely corny and sweet, but because i like him i was not too harsh on him during workshop. I simply suggested that relationships in general are a lot more complex, and it's okay in writing to have your characters be angry, sexual, frustrated because that's what makes them real. I felt the monk should have been questioning his faith more (for some reason, maybe he has desires outside of the church) and that the artist should have been more complex.

I wrote a long suggestion on his paper, because the story had potential as long as he added more conflict between them.

He seemed to listen to my suggestions and i didn't think i was too harsh.

Because we have to write two short stories the monk had to turn in another story this week. He emailed us (the workshop group) his 2nd story of the semester yesterda and we are going to go over it tomorrow in class.

I don't know if he took my suggestions to heart, or perhaps he was approaching his new story differently...but my sweet dear monk wrote the most sexually explicit story i have read in a while!!!!!

Oh he inserted some conflict, along with masturbating mistresses and hardons. I had the unfortunate pleasure of reading this story at work, and my face was so embarrassed that i had to take breaks to get through the damn thing.

The story is a little cliche but here's the plot: a married man sets up a "meeting" with an old flame in a hotel. He is not happy in his marriage, and is looking for a lay. At the hotel with the mistress he contemplates why is there, questioning his morals in the process. The mistress, a very sexual vixen who must represent carnal sin, taunts him with her sexuality.

At the end, he decides he loves his wife despite their problems, and has made a mistake. THE END.

It wouldn't have been so bad if phrases like " I could still get hard" , "fingering herself" and my favorite "Do you think you need to get inside me to let go of her" weren't in it.

Holy Mother of Saint Theresa. I have been corrupted by a monk. I need a long shower after this one. I have no idea why there is so much explicit (almost) sex in it , but i was and still am very uncomfortable with the story.

I feel dirty, very dirty. No more suggestions from me.

Cancelled!!!!

Having a cancelled class in awesome. You get to sleep in late, catch up on homework you should have finished, and watch shows that you usually don't get to watch.

Having a cancelled class isn't fun however, when you don't get the email that class is cancelled, and you show up anyway...waiting like an idiot....in a near empty class.

Luckily I wasn't the only one who showed up to my very empty creative writing class this morning. Some girl, whose name i don't know but it's probably something really preppy, and a boy who is also in my Environmental lit class, showed up also to wait until we all agreed that we showed up for no reason, and class was probably cancelled.

The Boy, Michael, intimidates the shit out of me. He has this very abrasive, aggressive attitude which makes him a pain to be around. Not in the annoying guy way, or the annoying girl way...but in the "take it to the EXTREME sort of way".

He's always making suggestion on how the teachers can teach better, to make the class more efficient. One day when my very nice Environmental Lit professor handed out a set of questions he wanted the class to work on in small groups, Michael protested that the questions were difficult and we didn't have enough time to answer them thoroughly.

???

In my creative writing class he makes very hard critiques, almost bordering on rude. I heard him tell one girl that her poem was utter garbage. Not in those exact words, but with a tone that conveyed it. Needless to say, i avoid him at all cost, though sometimes(because he sits right in front of me ) he turns around in his seat and tries to make conversation with me.

Because there was only three of us today, i had to brace myself as he interrogated me for ten minutes. Did you do the readings for today? I wonder where everyone is. Did you check your email? Maybe i should go to his office and see what is up. Did we have any homework for Environmental Lit?

He was so close to my face as he was asking these questions i had to back up a little. He even went in my book bag (after i made a reference to a book are reading) and grabbed a book out to thumb through it. If i wasn't so shocked i would have cleared my throat, but i just stared as he went through my book, and then put it back in my book bag.

As i stared at "invader of my book bag" i instantly "geez i could never date an aggressive guy like this. I'd be on ends all day with him"

My mom keeps hinting on my nonexistent boy situation. At this point i think she either a) thinks I'm secretly a lesbian(not that there's anything wrong with that) or b) that I'm planning on becoming a nun (not that there's anything wrong with that)

I don't know how to tell her that a) I'm not a lesbian or a nun and b) that most of the guys on campus are abrasive and scary or I'm just filled with so much anxiety about relationships that i stray away from them.

It's so stupid that the one thing I want (and by one i mean several), which is companionship, is also the biggest thing i struggleg with. I know that i am this functioning person who is capable of relationships. The few that i do have are good, and my interactions with people prove that i am not this boring girl who repulses people. But i still have this lingering fear in situations like I just out of place and awkward

I've spent so much time in therapy harping about my recent writing lag that i have avoided the whole "social anxiety, stunting my social life" thing. And it would be really good to get my mother off my back about boys. I was talking on the phone with her the other day about The Constant Gardner, and that quickly turned into a "why don't you have a boyfriend conversation".

It was during my explantaion of why I have a thing against long movie's (I feel asleep during the Matrix and have yet to see any Harry Potter Movies because of the length) Anyway as we were talking my mother said "whenever you get a boyfriend i'll make sure to tell him not to drag you to any long movies"

It looks worse than it sounds, but it still stung. Geez.

Let me make some real friends first, and then i handle my nonexistant dating life.

Getting my Mojo Back

I think i may have suffered from exhaustion last week. I thought exhaustion was just some bullshit excuse people (particularly Celebrities) used to take time off from their lives. I mean every time i have heard the word it usually came after " (Insert Singer or Actor) has cancelled their tour or public experience from EXHAUSTION"

But after last week, i am not calling exhaustion a bullshit excuse anymore because i was completely drained and irritable. This semester is kicking my ass. Seriously. Sometimes i feel like i am drowning under the weight of everything. Simple task these last couple of weeks have been harder to finish, and i knew at any moment i was going to crash.

Reading assignments have gone unfinished, i slept in a corner at work ( and didn't caught), i missed my Film class cause i over slept...you get the picture.

My bubbly disposition was gone and replaced with an irritated one. I'm not one of those happy smiley people, but i am a relaxed person to be around. I rarely get angry, i don't like arguments, and i have about 5 years of jokes stocked up to keep people pretty entertained.

But lately i have been so drained, that i just haven't felt like myself. I felt like a train going top speeds, and suddenly I derailed.

2 weeks ago i had a short story due, and at 2 in the morning i literally was still at my computer nearly in a panic saying quietly to myself "I have no idea what i am doing"

It's weird because i know I'm a smart kid, i know my strengths and weaknesses: I'm sensitive, intuitive, funny, and sometimes even charming. I'm also a constant worrier, procrastinator, and self conscious. But sometimes out of nowhere, even though i know what i am capable of, i get this frightening thought that "I have no idea what i am doing" with my life, school, the future, and as of late writing.

I have to admit something....something i never thought i would write...but lately writing has become a drag. Don't get me wrong, it's everything to me, i wouldn't be the person i am without being able to write. I still am going to be a writer, become prolific and marry Sufjan Stevens. But my creative writing class is killing my love of writing lately.

I'm not use to this whole criticism thing. From teachers or professionals in the field i don't mind getting some suggestions about my writing. But from peers, i think it is utter bull crap to have them look at my work and then try to give me feedback on it. So far i have been working with people who don't give suggestions but instead ask stupid questions as to "why did you put this in here, the grammar is off, i would put a comma here instead of there".

Not only do i have their criticism to listen too, but then i have to read their craptastic work which is very disappointing and bland.

I now feel constricted with my writing, like i have to write either a) how i think people want me to write or b) simplified as to not confuse or overwhelm my peers. Writing has not become fun anymore, I've ditched all my cheesy story ideas for "the proper" writing style, I haven't written one piece of work that i actually like, and even blogging has become hard.

I hate admitting this, but it's the truth. Being surrounded by so called "writers" who worry more about comma splices than content, has sucked all the life out of what makes writing beautiful for me.

Writing was always a way for me to connect to people. In the 4th grade when i was in love with a boy named Nicholas, i'd spend most of the school day bouncing off ideas with him. We wrote a movie along with my best friend about some kids who were spies. It majorly sucked, when i think back on it, but it was fun and natural. We didn't care that 10 year olds couldn't possibly be spies, or that production of the movie would cost more than our allowance, but we just liked creating something together because it connected us.

As a teenager writing was my escape. I have middle school and high school journals full of entries about shit days and crushes on teachers(pretty much like now). Instead of writing being a way to connect to people, it became a way i connected to myself. Putting into words what i couldn't seem to vocalize.

Writing is like this natural thing, i don't try to over think it, i don't care about grammar(clearly) and I could give a shit about spelling. I just do it, because it's who i am. It calms me, restores me, and reminds me of my natural self...not the anxious girl on the outside who is constantly worried about what people will see.

But lately i have been anxious about writing , as i am about everything else, that it's wearing me out. Writing is my one relief and if don't that have that what do i have?

I went over this today in therapy with Toby. I have a tendency of rambling with him, cursing a lot, and expressing my real sort of anxious side. He's never read any of my stuff, but he seems to believe me when i say that i'm a good writer. He thinks that i am too conscious about writing, that i'm making it more mental art than a...natural one. And he wants me to return to a state when it wasn't a task.

I haven't been devoting time to actually writing what i want to write, and for this reason i am so frustrated and stressed because my relief has all been sucked out of me. I don't know how to return to that state when writing was fun, and not a chore as Mr. McSoulSucker seems to keep drilling into us.

Toby thinks i should give more time the writings i like to invest in, so it can become natural and free again.

So no more writing about how hard writing is. No more grad school talk, grades, or any of that stuff. Back to the natural, so i can be stress free again.

I took a three day weekend (yes i totally skipped class, wrote in bed with my pj's and slippers, and ate cereal) so i could get into the writing mood again. I think it worked, because writing doesn't seem so daunting anymore.

I just need to get my mojo back.