Simultaneously watching sexual harassment videos and scrolling tumblr like a boss.
Totally kidding. Well, I really am required to watch sexual harassment education videos. I wouldn’t say that I do much of anything like a boss. Somehow I’ve found myself wandering around downtown with friends a few nights in a row. And so, at the glorious time of not quite nine in the morning, I am remembering the fact that I didn’t get back until not quite three. And I’ll leave so I can get to work at not quite ten. On the bright side, I managed to smoke a hookah and do an assignment for a course at the same time without realizing. Yay, college.
Well, I shouldn’t say that. But loyalty isn’t their strong suit. Neither is punctuality. And they were an absolute asshole when they were depressed, but if I am the one having problems, suddenly they’re nowhere to be found and it’s not okay for me to be the slightest bit grumpy or sarcastic as a way of coping. And thus, once more my expectations have met their match in reality. I don’t trust them at all, and without that there’s no point to our friendship. I suppose I can just wait it out or be brutally honest and end things now.
Quite a bit actually. About…five years. That right there is a significant chunk of time. So basically I’m cynical, bitter, and arrogant as all hell. Just like I was when I was thirteen, except now I’m a little more willing to get into it if someone has an issue with me.
To prove that writing evolves and that there is some hope for all beginning writers:
Before: In the office, after getting a late pass, the secretary is kind enough to inform me that I have now acquired enough tardies to earn a free trip to detention after school. Although her face is set in a sympathetic smile, Ms. Lain is smirking on the inside. Ms. Lain’s not a very subtle woman; it’s more than obvious that she hates kids, which makes me wonder why she would even work at a school. She probably did it so she could be closer to her own daughter, and smooth any ruffled feathers caused by her selfish actions. And if she just conveniently misplaced things that would get her daughter in trouble, well then that was just an unfortunate coincidence.
After: I was less disturbed by the idea of being late and more irritated by the fact that it would require me to obtain a late pass from the school secretary. With a smile as sweet as aspartine she kindly informed me that I would be required to attend detention due to my apparent problem with punctuality. Face set sympathetically, Ms. Lain looked at me, obviously delighted at the prospect of inconveniencing me with the small amount of authority given to her. I sometimes wondered why she would bother to seek out a job requiring interaction with children on a daily basis, especially given her dislike of students. She had probably taken the job so that she could be closer to her own daughter and smooth any ruffled feathers caused by her daughter’s selfish actions. And if somehow disciplinary papers were inconveniently misplaced, well then that was just an unfortunate coincidence.
And that’s just a year later people. In my opinion I’ve progressed. I think that anyone who gets that initial writing down can move on and continue. And then, those old ideas and their characters can be polished up and made what they were meant to be. So stick with writing just a bit longer if you’re thinking of giving up.
Mine, yours, anyone’s. It’s always a bit shocking and somewhat appalling to read in comparison to more recent work. I found that my short stories were actually brilliant. My novel type writing though? Imagine in first person: ‘I did this, then that happened, and this is how I felt, and then this happened, and I thought that but my expression was this.’ Until you get to the action part of it, and then, well I wouldn’t call it brilliant, but it definitely is in comparison to the preceding chapters. It’s not because the action scenes are of much interest. It’s just that by that time I managed to develop the ability to properly story-tell. And now, I suppose I should edit. After all, that’s what brought me to writing about this.
My mother could never be bothered to be around when I actually needed a parental figure and guidance. And now that I’m in college she’s all weepy and friendly and proud. I kind of want to say, “It’s too late, go away.” But then people will make me feel like I’m a bitch for doing it.
It’s…interesting? Like high school, with all the shitty people, but also with a greater selection of excellency. And also, I don’t have to worry about going hungry again, thanks to financial aid. I will probably be sporadically posting now that endless things fill the void of working nearly full time.
I don't know whether to be embarrassed or pretend it never happened.
I finally got back from vacation. Today is my one and only day left in my state before I drive off to college. Because everything is pretty much packed now, I thought I’d catch up on all the things posted on my neglected dashboard. Long story short, I got up to grab a snack. I made it as far as my bedroom door. Suddenly I realized how dizzy and off balance I felt and fell over, face forward, onto the ground. I kind of just laid there for a minute before I carefully stood up. I don’t think I got any bruises. The end.
Sort of, kind of. I miss my friend already, which is quite pathetic beause it’s only been two days since I last saw her. I have acquired many things while on vacaton and I’m not sure how to feel about that. Like I probably should have left more things at home actually. This has been a tech free trip for the most part and will likely continue to be so. I’ve been grabbing free wi-fi here and there since…the third. So, there you have it, old followers and recent spam followers. I have a life of sorts. Congratuations to me. I will be on my flight home tomorrow and then onward to college, that big building off in the distance.
Getting a life? Doing exciting and novel things? Not exactly. I have had no access to the internet for a few days. I could say I’ve accomplished a lot, but I haven’t really. And now I’m off to do more things not involving the internet. Ah, the joys of real life.