I hate the fact that it is ridiculously late and although I should be in bed, or have HIMYM rocking me to sleep, I still find myself awake trying to type up letters to my fellow classmates about their writing styles and such. It's not that I don't enjoy it, I just want to sleep.

I knew I shouldn't have watched Funny Girl, singing along with the lyrics.

Reflection Time

I looked through some of my old pieces of fiction and non fiction (also research papers, but who really cares for those, ;P) and noticed something about the two: For fiction, I write very poorly when I am not motivated and for non fiction, I still write as if I have walls put up.

I realized that the little short pieces for fiction were fun and playful, but the dialogue was a bit askew, the plot was submissive or inexistant, and it all had to do because as I was writing it, it gave me no pleasure in writing it. At first, it was something nice because there is a genesis to the idea of what I am writing about. For example, I thought it would have been a funny piece to write about a poor sad man who lived with his mother fall in love with a woman that he didn't know was a lesbian. At first thinking about it, I thought it would be a funny story. But it was just... sad. Nothing really happened, the characters stayed the same, the guy still lives with his mom, the girl is still a lesbian. I think the only good thing that came out of it was a practice round for how to establish semi-good dialogue. Even then, the dialogue lacked anything to bring the story into fruition. Now, I plan to have something happen, instead of keeping the story so static. That Long Project class helped me to better fix that. To give a point to the story, not write pretty phrases. Although they may be pretty, they lack anything of value to the piece.

My non fiction wasn't any better. Although I did enjoy writing about myself and my family, I felt as though I still needed to keep the laundry from airing out in the green fields. I wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to bring up the scenario with my sister, but I was also feeling as though it was really no one's business, and trying hard not to bring it up. But the problem was, there was nothing going on in my life other than the thoughts pertaining to my sister. So, I wrote with caution. Now as I think and look back, it would not have hurt anyone because no one knew her, she was just another person that was going through something. I failed to tell the truth. Failing to tell the truth in stories is misleading to the audience. Now, I try to bring out the truth, while peeling layers of skin off me to expose truth.

Anyways, this was just to bring out some thoughts about my writing, and how it has affected me in my writing style.

Thoughts... as Spring quarter is my last quarter

Spring is here, the birds are chirping away the infinite end to my long line of education. I can't believe that I am one quarter away from receiving my Bachelor's degree.

And what do I plan to do?

Fly off to another country.

I do want to go teach English in another country, simply because I feel as though I am a liberated liberal that is up to the challenge. I am not afraid of trying new things, and my thoughts are still in bound to try and make something of myself.

I just hope I get the opportunity to do something as thrilling as teaching in another part of the world. Who knows, I might make something out of it. :)