Wednesday, April 29, 2015


Spring cleaning for me has partially involved going through all my old school stuff. I kept all of it. I've already gone through 16 folders filled with school stuff, old stuff Freckles and I drew as kids, random stories and bits of writing, old sheet music for piano, piano theory notes, and a surprising amount of perfectly good blank paper. I've gone through all the school stuff and sorted out the big assignments or things that caught my attention, and had decided to recycle most of the other stuff. I asked mom where I should put it, and she offered the suggestion of taking it out to the cabin to use to start fires.

I was surprised at how completely against the suggestion I was. I mean, I was planning on recycling this stuff anyway. I don't need it. I don't need my old math notes, or social studies notes, or even old biology notes. I don't have any reason to keep it beyond the fact that I'm a giant sentimental loser who hangs onto things forever and ever because they all have memories.

Ptarckas informed me that he was happy to burn his school notes, for the reason that he hadn't enjoyed grade school a whole lot. When I saw Artifex, Nerd, and Tupperware yesterday, they all said they had gotten rid of their old school notes (maybe not Artifex, I can't remember). Tupperware said that he burned them.

I just... I can't burn them. I can't do it. I put a lot of effort into making those notes. I was a good student. Burning all of this stuff feels like all the proof I had that I worked hard and did well is gone. Like it was pointless putting in all the effort I did. And I put in probably too much effort. All my life I've been praised as a hard worker, a good student, a "pleasure to have in class" (I can't tell you how many times I got that comment on report cards).

This still doesn't explain why I was so okay with recycling this stuff. I think maybe it's because I could get rid of it all at once, and just walk away, and deal with it (I really am a sentimental loser, you guys. Trust me). I just want it out of my room, because then I have room in that drawer for things that are a bit more important, like, y'know, tax stuff, and university papers (not my university notes, though I'm having trouble throwing those out as well... and also selling my textbooks, though that's more just me being lazy and too timid to find out how to sell them), and also I want to free up room in my closet for things like clothes and books. All the clutter in my room is stressing me out, and these notes are a big part of that.

Maybe it's because I based so much of my identity on school for so long? "Good student" has been a piece of my identity all my life, even as the others changed- as "dancer" and "writer" slowly fell away and I had less and less by which to define myself. Burning all this stuff feels a little like destroying a part of myself, as cheesy and nerdy as that sounds. In all of these notes is countless hours of hard work spent learning sometimes things I hated. There are numerous margin poems full of exhaustion at how many things we had to cover, or how little I cared about what we were learning, and endless tiny doodles.

It's sort of like burning a scrapbook to me, I guess. Maybe for some people it feels good to get rid of school notes because they hated school, because it meant nothing to them, because other things were more important. I loved school. I still do.

I don't know. I don't know why I'm hanging onto this so much. I just want to let go of it so I can have some fucking space in my room for new things, but I can't.

I think for my own mental health I should probably just dispose of these in the original way of my choosing- recycling. It's all paper, anyway, and I've kept the really significant things, the things with memories written into them, or more hard work than usual. I can see myself dumping these notes into a recycling bin and walking away. I cannot see me handling it well if I had to watch them go up in flames, especially at the cabin because that would mean that I'd have to watch as they slowly disappeared over months. They all need to go at once, and it needs to be instantaneous.

I can't explain why that's better. I have no reason for it. It just is. That's what I want to do, and with my newfound sense of "I'm an adult now bitch" I will be able to be like "sorry, mom, I need this for my own sanity."

One thing I did find surprising was how much I wanted to keep my old history notes. I think that class was probably one of the most valuable for getting me interested in something I can remain interested in for life. Not even just war history (though my love for WWI history runs deep) (WWII is cool too I guess), but all the rest of it, too. I really liked learning European history. I almost wonder if I would have found Canadian history as interesting if I had learned it when I was 16 instead of when I was 9, but then again, maybe Europe just has a cooler history (or maybe it is just given more attention and credit).

I know I'll probably get over the loss of all my useless space-wasting notes once I just get rid of them. I have historically been a very resilient person, and I don't expect that will change now.

yer pal,

Saturday, April 25, 2015

I hate leaving this place

The last night is always the worst.

I just said goodbye to Ptarckas, who I hung out with all afternoon. He did come over briefly and help me pack up some stuff, because my mom decided to tell me TODAY that they are in a bit of a rush and so would I mind just packing up all my clothes? like. Mom. You couldn't have let me know about this earlier? Even another day's notice would have been better. I spent Thursday morning READING. All I can say is that I've cleaned off my desk and all its drawers, my dresser and all but one of its drawers, my bedframe (drawers and shelves) entirely, and my sidetable, and my drawer in the bathroom. This leaves primarily books and dishes and cleaning for tomorrow, but my parents are bringing up most of the boxes to put stuff in so that kind of throws a wrench in things.

The worst part, but the part I knew I should just do for practical purposes, was taking down my calendar and photos. The walls are so empty now. It feels like I am officially moving out. It's bizarre to take apart this room that I had so carefully constructed for myself, this little home I built and lived in for most of the past 8 months.

I like it here. I like that my parents don't know about everything I eat and do, I like that they don't know when I go out or stay in unless I choose to tell them. I like that they don't ask how often I see Ptarckas anymore (and I especially liked that they've stopped asking what we do when we hang out).

I also like school. I do, really. I mean, yeah, sometimes homework and assignments are annoying and midterms and finals suck but I like classes, I like learning this stuff. It's so great that I don't have to take any more math or english or take more than one arts course. I can finally immerse myself in things I am actually interested in. It's the best.

I just feel so free when I am here. I'm in the middle of the city, I know how public transportation works here, I live close to my school and the train so I can go see other friends. I'm surrounded by people my own age going through similar life experiences. I love everything about living here so, so much.

I feel bad about that. I mean, it is nice to be home sometimes. There's home food, and my bed is comfy. But my room is also packed full of crap from my childhood, and I don't want to know how evolved the dust bunnies under my bed have become. I have no place for anything at home anymore, everything is just... junk, and sentimental junk. I could try a spring cleaning, but that never seems to last, and it's so much work, and I already have to fill out all these forms for my actual job to accept a scholarship and email my supervisor about when I start and UGH. I mean, that is pretty low key- sending emails! Maybe going to talk to my supervisor once or twice! I can still technically sleep in and eat breakfast at noon... alone... with the dog... who will cry and wake me up long before I want to anyway.

I love my parents, I do. I love being home for things like Christmas and Thanksgiving and February break and Easter (well, technically I haven't been home for Easter yet but it should happen eventually). I love getting to see my little sister again. I miss all my friends at home. I miss driving. Home is home, it's where I grew up. It's familiar and safe. Also it feels a hell of a lot smaller compared to where I am now. There's nothing wrong with going home. But moving back home for four months is very different.

I know my parents miss me. I know they like having me back at home. I don't hate being there. But I'm starting to prefer being here, and I feel horribly guilty about that. Here, I feel more independent (but trust me, I am anything but. Just trust me). At home, I feel like I'm 16 again and not allowed to leave the house after it gets dark... and where would I even go? I go out here, sometimes rarely. I never, ever went out at home. I don't have any place to go.

Something about being at home feels a little stifling when it's for this long, especially when I have to pack up a life I love so much here to go back. I'm sure that's fully normal. And I'm not saying I want to be adult, because I have no idea how to do that and, let's be honest, I'm going to be terrible at it when I have to actually try. I just like the setup I have here. I like how it works. I like my life up here, a lot. I was so worried about it before I left, and it turned out so well. I like school, I like the people who live here, the food's pretty decent, I like the location, I like the building, I like that I never ever have to help unload 20 bags of groceries into a pantry that is literally already full. I like that there is always room in the fucking fridge.

I dunno. I think being at home just stresses me out because of the sheer amount of stuff not only in my room, but in that house. Lately I can't stop thinking about how awful it is going to be to try and go through that house, whenever that has to be done. It's not even a house anymore, it's a home. It's full of home stuff, like several thousand books and old dance costumes and random old toys and god knows what else.

I just don't want to leave. I'm gonna miss Ptarckas and Carina like crazy. I'm gonna miss the city and school. I'm gonna miss the dining room.

I'll survive, but for this weekend, everything is just kind of bittersweet.

yer pal,

Thursday, April 23, 2015


The last time I just sat around and read a book was February break, when I got through the first three books in the Maze Runner series and got so pissed off by how the third one ended that I was too mad to read the last one. It has been sitting on my bedside table ever since, and today I decided to try and read it, and holy fuck it is intense (although I don't know what I was expecting from a book with the title The Kill Order, so...)

My other plan for today was to write three different blog entries, but I can't really remember what two of them were now. I was looking at a bunch of stuff about education reform the other day, and it got me thinking about how perhaps the way I chose to spend my last two years of high school was less of a good idea than I've made it out to be. But that deserves its own post.

Reading this book reminded me strongly of my own writing. Not in terms of the content- I don't tend to write a lot of post-apocalyptic stuff- but just in the way it was written. I always look at my own writing like this and think it's cheesy and bad and poorly written. But then I realized, this is just how YA is written. Since I've adamantly refused to grow up and read books for adults, I've read a lot of YA. Consequently, it's kind of all I really know how to write.

I mean, there's nothing wrong with it, certainly. YA is a lot of fun to write. It's breezy, especially the way I write it. This is partly the reason for trying to write something a little less YA-ish than I normally do in November- I'm trying to branch out. I don't know. More so than that I'm just trying to write again, but I guess learning to write other things can be a side effect.

Most of the time in the past I just wanted people to like my writing. I just wanted them to find it funny, and figured that that must mean it was good. And there isn't anything wrong with that, either. But at the same time, I wish I had the ability to write things that were powerful, and moving, the kind of stuff that people keep thinking about long after they've read it, you know? The kind of stuff that moves them. I'm not saying it's impossible to develop that ability, just that I've never tried. Everything I write comes out so.... cheesy.

I feel like part of this is the fact that I can't write real poetry. All the poems I write are horribly literal. My experience with poetry is that if I can't really understand what's going on, it must be real poetry. Which is why poetry pisses me off a little bit- quit being so vague, you asshole, and just tell us what you mean. Poetry is all flowery language that dances around the point and never quite gets to it. It's awful. This probably also explains, though, why I like Robert Frost so much: I can easily just read the surface of his poems and get an understanding of what's going on; I don't have to do an English class analysis of symbolism and imagery to get the point.

But at the same time I wonder if part of powerful writing like that is that it never quite gets to the point? Or maybe it gets straight to it? I don't really know. Now I'm just thinking about how much poetry pisses me off, and how jealous I am of people who can both understand it and write it. But I'm trying to think of examples of writing like that that moved me, and why they did.

Really I think it all boils down to being able to suck people in. If I can get really into a book, become really concerned about what's going on, become invested in the story, it has a much larger effect on me than if I read the book, can't ever get into it, and just think "this is terribad" the whole time through- which has happened in a couple of YA things I've read.

I'm able to get sucked into some of the things I've written so far, which I would take as a good sign except for the fact that I wrote them so I don't think I'm allowed to judge. I know I'd have to cut a lot out of those stories, too, and that's so much work, especially considering that one of them is Camp Lame-o 3-- if I want to edit that one, I have to go back and fix the other two as well (might even just scrap number two altogether, since it was that bad, and just put the rockslide in the first one or something... but then I'd have to change some of the rules of that story universe, and ... or maybe that's what causes the nightmares... yes.... YES, AN IMBALANCE. Anyway). Plus, the way I edit best is with a real copy (i.e. not on a computer) and it is kind of hard to justify printing off an 80 page story. And I mean, in "a something" I'd have to probably cut out the bit about Sunflower and probably also the Alex thing... probably Nick would have to go too, since he turned out to be so colossally unimportant. Which means I'd have to add MORE adventures, and I mean, what else happens on a road trip besides driving and games of truth or dare? Plus I'd have to make Gabe into less of a potato of a character than he already was. God, he was so useless. DO SOMETHING. FEEL SOMETHING. BE SOMETHING. Augh. Also, Brian was kind of a plank of wood in that story, despite my best efforts. I'm really, really bad at character development, you guys.

Who knows, maybe I will do some editing one of these NaNos. In the meantime. I'll plan for the story I currently have in my head, and work on convincing Redbeard to do NaNo with me (DO IT, YOU TURD. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO).

yer pal,

Monday, April 20, 2015

Sweet baby jesus

I remembered my blog that existed primarily during middle school and throughout 9th grade. Thankfully, it is locked. But dear god, it is an adventure to read.

For one thing, I had way too much time on my hands when I was 14. There are wayyyyy too many entries from that phase of my life. But I did get to go back and remember Sposh, quacking, and other 9th grade delights I had since forgotten about. I'm not even sure that 9th grade was real. It feels too bizarre now.

Some highlights:

-Oh lord, that pink trenchcoat. I still have that thing. I have had it since the 8th grade. As expected, it fits me a little differently now, because I look a little bit different than I did when I was 13.

-OH LORD, THE SASS. "I only need to be known as existent to the people who have brains bigger than grains of sand." U GO, 13 YEAR OLD SELF. PROUD OF U.

-ALSO PROUD OF MY 13 YEAR OLD SELF FOR GETTING PEOPLE SUSPENDED BECAUSE THEY WERE NASTY TO ME legit like I should put that on my fucking resume that's how proud of that I am. I GOT A FORCED APOLOGY. THE GLORY.

-There is now an entry from May 5, 2009, entitled "Blurt Alerts and Goat Boy's 180." Quality writing, everyone. Quality writing. I am so good at titles.

-Apparently my Era of Having Bangs began on May 1, 2009. That's almost 6 years now. DANG.

-Farticles. That is all.

-Yes, farticles are exactly what you think they are. My 8th grade science teacher had a very creative way of explaining diffusion

-I think I missed the point of not having to blog every day (she says as she has currently been doing so to procrastinate on finals and avoid boy problems)

All right, we're getting into things from 7th grade now, and nothing good can come of that. 7th grade me would be hella proud of me now, and would also think that I got totally hot, so that's all that matters. Also, it's 2:30 AM, and sleep is probably a good idea.

No, nevermind. I have reached the first entry. May 9, 2008. I've been blogging in one way or another for about 7 years. Not really sure that's impressive, especially considering all the entries before I turned about 16 or 17 are absolutely horrible and should never be seen by anyone ever.

One last fun tidbit: my 5th or 6th entry ever was entitled "Chain Mail: Do YOU Believe in it?" which is now officially in the running for Best Title, along with the blurt alerts and goat boy one, and possibly also the angst-ridden "Bad things don't happen in threes, they just happen to me!!!!!" which was all about how I kept not getting paired with my crush in the 9th grade. I had my fucking priorities in order.

yer pal,

Sunday, April 19, 2015

I might actually write again

Probably not until November because that's when I wanna do this, but still.

I was told recently that it sounds like I'm not very good at character creation (as evidenced by the fact that my characters are so much like me they have actual conversations I have actually had wtf) and so I kind of decided that I would do something like that.

I have one character (from Camp Lame-o, obvi, because I can never ever create new characters because I am lame) (HAAAAAAAAA LAME-O) (sorry) that I really like, and I decided I wanted to know more about her. She has a last name now and everything, and also a troubled backstory which I don't know anything about yet. I just know that it's there and that because I want to see more of this character than just her can-do take-no-shit attitude (she built her own massive company from the ground up and regularly has the best advice to offer). So probably I'm going to throw something horrible at her that drags her away from her big shiny office in the city and back to where she grew up, to see how she handles it.

This makes me feel unbelievably cruel, and I know this character isn't real. I know I could just write something about her big shiny city life, but I want to get to know this character better. I want to know what happened to her. I want to know why she doesn't want to go home, I want to know what's waiting for her there.

I have also found a few songs that get me in the writing spirit. As usual, they are pop, and slightly random, but so far it's just two. There are a couple potential ones but one of them gets a bit too extreme for me just yet and I'm not sure if the other one entirely fits. As of right now, it's "One Last Time" by Ariana Grande and "Sledgehammer" by Fifth Harmony. I was listening to both of them for hours last night while trying to fill out this character creation form, which I am determined to fill out. I will think about this character's favourite music, favourite food, her mannerisms, her expressions, her fucking relationship with her parents, until she feels even more real to me than she does already.

I would say I'm "getting back in the game" but that makes me sound like a middle aged divorcee who is going out on dates again and that is so far from my reality.

yer pal,

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Year in review

I know this is something you do in December, and TECHNICALLY I still have one exam left, but it's the kind of scenario where it's literally impossible for me to fail at this point (also impossible for me to get an A with the stupid grading scheme they use, which I swear is not the same as the other courses. Anyway, I decided to clean up my room a little, which takes way less time when I'm not at home because I don't have like long lost childhood art in here or like books of theory music that I can't bring myself to throw out yet because I put lots of effort into that. All I have in this room is whatever I came in with, and whatever I added in the course of a year. Also, realizing how much childhood crap I have in my room at home has led me to try to be LESS of a pack rat because I have realized that at some point I'm gonna have to take all my crap out of my room at home and that scares me because that's a lot of crap and I'm gonna have to throw stuff out and it's gonna make me emotional.

I'm just trying to think about what happened this year. I can't believe I've gone through two years of university. Also, it's been 10 years since I finished elementary school, which feels weird but also like it's been longer.

I guess I could start with courses. I took two genetics courses (one was technically still bio). I took Ochem I and II, and let me tell you, that was not fun. I took stats, which was gross but I passed. I took biochem, and two WGS courses, and two psych courses- which led me to realize that I hate psych and do not want to take any more psych courses ever again. But I got through all of them. I went to every single fucking lecture. So far in university, I've only ever skipped one lecture, and that was because there weren't any later flights home before thanksgiving. I'm sure my Chem 101 prof didn't notice and I still got a B+ in the course.

I have been out to probably two bars all year, and have consumed probably two alcoholic beverages total. So there's not much going in terms of partying. I joined my building's RA board and proceeded to do barely anything- I volunteered for the halloween party, was informed that I was no longer needed once I showed up, and then volunteered again for our end-of-year party last Friday, which was a total flop because no one came, but I still danced. So I've only embarrassed myself dancing once this year.

I kinda made two new friends via having them as lab partners (hello to one of them, who now knows about this blog and so I'm assuming will read this at one point). That was fun. As for the rest of my classes... I'm apparently bad at making friends. Carina and I are still friends, and she was trying to get us to branch out this year, but that didn't really happen because I'm a chicken and was like "why I already have friends" but that may not be entirely true. And I suppose I became better friends with the two girls I've roomed with, and I'm very sad that they won't be living here next year.

I attempted NaNo again. Only got 40K in and realized earlier this week when re-reading it that the characters are too much like me, to the point where I wrote actual conversations that I've only had in the last month (which is a little bit creepy). I haven't gotten much more into writing since then, but I want to at this point, and now I have another writing friend, which is having more of an effect on me than I originally expected. It's almost like knowing somebody who also enjoys it and will talk to me about it makes me think about it more or something. Currently working on that friend re: NaNo (by this I mean they are afraid to do it which is silly because it's fun and I will prove this somehow). We'll see how next year goes. And the summer too, I suppose.

I suppose Ptarckas and I have gotten closer, too. We have been dating for almost two years now, which feels like forever when you're not even 20. Still not really sure where that relationship is going (Ptarckas has expressed similar feelings on this), but I figure I'm still young so that's OK.

I've also gotten my finances in order, this semester especially. Which, ironically, helped me to stop the freshman 15 (which, yes, I now realize was completely harmless and not nearly as big of a deal as I made it out to be).

As for things outside of school... I'm still in EPASS, but I'm not really feeling like that's going anywhere. My role is extremely limited both by my lack of knowledge about anything related to space science and my unwillingness to learn anything about it. I mean, there are still things I could do, but I haven't really done them. I don't know what's going on with that. Then there's the RA board, which was interesting and well worth it despite the fact that I did very little. Also, I suppose, there were the dance lessons in the fall semester. Those were pretty fun and it was nice having something to do outside of school (with Ptarckas, no less). I also attempted to join a TRX class this semester but that fell through because of "low enrollment" unfortunately. Looking at doing some ballet classes next  year because what the hell, I need some interests outside of school and I am painfully shy and foot-dragging when it comes to getting involved in things.

Plus, there were just little things. I went to a french play with Carina early on in the fall. I understood none of the parts that weren't in English, and it was about alcoholics, so they poured water all over themselves all the time instead of drinking all that water, to mimic the drinking, so that was interesting. We also went to another play this semester, which was thankfully all in English and very well done (but very long, my god). I also went to a folk festival in my building which Ptarckas and his father were doing sound setup for, and that was far more interesting than I thought it would have been. Yesterday was probably the last time I went out and did something, going to the theme park with Ptarckas. I went on a big roller coaster for the first time. The theme park that comes through my hometown in the summer is what it sounds like- mobile- so they don't really do big roller coasters. We got one of the pictures from the "action camera" too, and that was fun to look at.

I just... I'm all mushy now. This all came from cleaning my room and finding little things I had forgotten about. I don't want to go home, especially given the suckiness of last summer, but I'm determined to make this summer not suck. I've just gotta do more stuff. I can't just come home at the end of every day and sit around on the computer. Also, hopefully the project I'm working on at the lab will let me be more involved. I get the feeling that last summer was extremely last minute and that's why I spent so much time doodling on filter paper and making blotting buffer and running endless protein gels. I learned a bunch of stuff, don't get me wrong, but I often found myself feeling useless and in the way. I just wanted something to do. And I guess I could try to do a little more travelling. Even just to some national parks near where I live, or back up here for a couple visits...

I do miss my home and my family and home food. I miss watching movies with my family and eating outside with my family and being at the cabin with my family. I miss the fast internet and how gigantic and comfy my bed is. I miss my little sister, adorable little cupcake that she is. I miss my friends whom I haven't seen (or talked to I AM VERY SORRY) in ages. I also miss summer, despite the fact that I have exactly 0 pairs of shorts that fit me. I miss the thunderstorms and the late sunsets and the campfires. I do not, however, miss the bugs, but I'll take what I can get.

All right. I probably should do some studying at some point. Also get out of this room... I have a bad habit of staying in here all day when I don't have anything to do.

yer pal,

Thursday, April 9, 2015

I'm so excited

About a month ago, I got an email from the university telling me my date to start registering for courses. So I made up a list of things to take. At that point, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do, and so I found myself making up a schedule I absolutely hated (partly because the higher up in university you go, the fewer times classes are offered in a semester.... argh). It had some interesting courses, but the big kicker was that I was making myself take physics. I do not want to take physics again. Physics is hella cool and interesting, sure, but it's also really difficult, and the way physics labs are done at my university, they're due the next day. It's awful. Plus, the physics I would have been taking was a 1st year course. When I finally got my schedule assembled, I got stressed out just looking at it. I felt like there was still all this horrible crap I had to get through, and even at the end of it, I still wasn't really going to get to study what I wanted to, which is genetics. The way my general biology degree would work out, I'd spend way too much time studying ecology and evolution and botany. Those things, again, are all interesting, but don't get me nearly as hyped up and excited as genetics.

So, I decided to go talk to an advisor about doing a specialization in molecular genetics degree. He was very convincing (and also very friendly and welcoming, as I've found most people in research/biology to be) and I found myself registering for the degree. I'm sure my parents were a little disappointed, since this pushed me further away from med school, and I was a little apprehensive myself, but now I'm very glad I did it.

Already I am talking with the advisor guy (such a name) about doing a research project (essentially I think I just help do research in the lab of one of the researchers here and get credits for it), and about all these different courses I can take, and about the fact that it's OK to take an extra semester, and I get to take almost exclusively genetics courses when I get to my fourth year and next year the worst things I have to take are microbiology and cell biology, but those are still infinitely better than bi(o)chem and physics. Plus, so many of the courses I'd end up taking are more independent and research-driven, and that makes me really excited.

It's surprisingly freeing to be able to do this. I know some people hate doing this kind of degree because it limits their options for courses (I can't take as many WGS courses, which is unfortunate, but oh well), but I like it because I finally don't have to waste time learning about things I'm less interested in. I can get down to the fine details of the subject I love, and learn more about how to research it.

I also have an end goal in mind, now, and that is really, REALLY exciting to me. I really, really want to do health research- the lab I have been working in studies cancer and it is so, so cool and fascinating to me and I just want to know more about it. The idea that I could contribute to research that helps people is so exciting to me. Which, of course, is the problem (for me) with a lot of genetics research: it's all about cells, or small microorganisms, or things that to me, seem pointless. But I'm sure I'll find they're more interesting than I thought.

I'm just so, so, so excited that I get to do this. I get to decide, I get to say "no, this is what I want to study, this is what I want to do with my life." I get to pursue what I love. It feels infinitely better than just getting a general degree or just taking all the "med school courses" because I don't know what I want to do yet. Is this what I want to do forever? Shit, I have no idea. I don't know what my life will turn out to be. But the point is that I have a direction now, something to work towards, a goal, a dream. And I'm so incredibly happy for that.

I know these courses are going to be hard. I know sometimes they will bore me, that not everything will be awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping wonder. My genetics course right now (which, to be fair, is still an intro course) is a little bit not that interesting, but I have to learn the basics. I know that I'm gonna have to put in a lot of work, but I also know now that I'm allowed a little room to pace myself, and I really get a strong feeling that people in the field (not all of them, I'm not stupid) will be willing to help me out. The reaction I get from most people doing work in this field is "You want to study this too? Hot dog, come on down, let me show you EVERYTHING and help you out!" and it makes me so very happy- and grateful, because these people know exactly what opportunities to point out to me.

Just... this whole thing makes me so excited. I can't wait to do it. All through high school, I thought that university would be where I could finally just study what I wanted to, without having to take all these other things that I thought were cool but not cool enough to take classes in. I've spent my first two years taking english, math, and chemistry courses to get to this point, and it's so great to think that I might finally be getting to the cool stuff- even just a little bit.

It is a little lonely, because I don't know anybody else in my genetics course right now. I don't know anybody else doing this degree. I don't know anyone else that likes this stuff as much as I do. But I'm sure that, moving forward, I'll find some people. In the meantime: I have other friends. In fact, I have THREE WHOLE ENTIRE FRIENDS outside of my building/high school friends now. Huzzah!

I've probably gushed enough about this at this point. I do still have homework to do. AT LEAST MY LAST OCHEM CLASS EVER WAS TODAY.

yer pal,
swegan :)

Monday, April 6, 2015

On Writing

Hey, if Stephen King can write a whole book on this, I can write a blog post on it.

I often wish I wrote differently. Like, I read a lot of writing, I think I know what good writing sounds like at this point. But I can't be one of those poets who writes those long-ass poems you read on tumblr, what with all their flowery language that somehow makes you feel cool while reading it. I can't write good essays, I mean like I write good essays, but writing essays isn't my calling, you know? Like I have the ability to write stuff and not have it sound like crap, but not have it not sound like crap enough to show it to anybody, ever.

I miss it.

I miss writing now more than ever, what with my miserable horrible feelings for people that I feel absolutely horrible about because the key word there is people and not person and I don't know how to deal with that. I miss writing when exams are piling up on me and I have to pass ochem, I have to, so that I don't have to take it again, and I miss writing when it's 2 AM and I'm bored to tears and there's nothing at ALL for me to do on the internet.

But everytime I try to go back, I cringe. There was some period of my life when I could suppress the inner editor, when I was like "what I write is absolute fucking garbage that reads like the worst fanfiction you've ever read except about my own characters instead of someone else's" and it was fine because nobody had to read it. Except then I had to quit for practical reasons and there is nothing else I regret more.

I know, I know. I'm not supposed to live with regrets, and I really try not to do that. I have very few regrets in life. The list is probably: 90% of my actions in middle school, not ending my high school relationship 8 months sooner, and quitting writing. That's it, that's my whole list of life regrets. Out of all the things I've done on this earth, those are the ones I wish I hadn't. But this one really bugs me, because now I am friends with someone who actually writes a LOT, and I am intimidated by it because I miss it so much.

But I look at my writing, which is all YA-targeted (mostly because I did it when I was a young adult myself) and bad. I have read many a YA book (adult books bore me to tears and have too much sex), I know what good YA sounds like. It is not my writing.

Yes, yes, I know, I know, first drafts are always terrible. Always! But the problem with me is that I'm far too lazy to go back and edit my own writing. It's one thing when it's a 5-6 page essay for my Women's and Gender Studies class. It's another thing when it's a 40K word novel I wrote that has the shakiest plot foundation ever. It's much easier to correct arguments in a paper I have to write for class than it is to build a stable world in which two characters would end up going on a road trip together. How would that even happen? Argh.

This whole post doesn't even sound like me. It sounds like someone trying to be good at writing, and that weirds me out. It's like I've become too self aware now. I don't know how to lose myself anymore. Everything has to have structure and make sense and blah blah blah whatEVer, I want to lose myself again.

I want to be able to write that crappy fanfiction-style Camp Lame-o shit that I used to. I want to be able to do that, to get carried away in oh-so-convenient plots that just HAPPEN to throw my very own self-created OTP together every single time. That is my favourite thing to write: create two characters with hella romantic tension and throw them together. What will happen? I don't know, but it'll be fun! And crappy!

My current plans for next NaNo are very much along these lines. I debated just spending the whole of November listening to Shania Twain and writing the cheesiest fucking country romance I could think of, but that became a problem because 1) I know nothing about cowboys, and 2) I cannot spend that long blushing. Blushing, why? Because I would be constantly embarrassed that I would be writing that, even if nobody else ever read it and nobody ever would.

I still need to find a use for that poem I wrote, though. I'm ridiculously proud of it, and I know that I could one day recite it to my kids as I put them to sleep/read it as a fucking vow at my wedding or something (it is that versatile, ladies and gentlemen, and it is abso-fucking-lutely that cheesy) but like those events are like 7-10 years away and I CAN'T WAIT THAT LONG.

I kind of ran out of steam there. I think I've said all I want to say on that topic for right now.

yer pal,