Reflection time part deux

I sometimes find it hard to actually have the urge to open up my macbook pro from its sleep mode and begin typing about my day, because it is very unproductive at the moment. I have only finals to think about.

But as I am procrastinating again on three edits that are due tomorrow in the morning, along with revision narratives one page each, I decided to reflect a bit and look back on my years.

My freshman year was less exciting than most. Where many were having fun and trying to get out, I was lucky enough to get a ride that first quarter because I didn't get my license over the summer. I luckily received it in october and began driving the car left and right. That habit died very quickly, as my parents constantly remind me.

On top of being in classes, I was unsure of the major that I was pursuing. I didn't know that I wanted to be a social worker. And the remedial English classes were deterring me from doing anything special with English. But I got good grades in my research papers, and teachers were praising me for the work I put into my English papers. And even more so, when it came to identifying the premise behind the story and not being corrected like I used to back in high gave me more incentive to venture into the world of English. By the end of my freshman year, I was getting enrolled in English.

Sophomore year had to have been the most dull that I can remember, because I was focusing a ton on my religious studies as well as a bit of writing classes. I took a religion class that both my advisor and I thought would help me but in the end I had to take a few additional religion classes, to which I am thankful for, because it helped me figure out where my true beliefs lie. I am not saying that I was converted. But I did feel more at ease with my spiritual and religious philosophies. I no longer stood petrified at the thought of life after death, and I simply just began living out what I have been calling life.

Junior year was a butt load of writing and English lit classes. I felt as though my popping out of story after story was proving to be uninterested, and started making me want to challenge my writing, and begin an outlet for creative non-fiction, which I loved. I still decided to write some fiction pieces, but without a thought I would have careless tossed in the trash bin where they belong. By junior year was also the time that I found a stable job that had specific hours to comply with, and I had people working under me and also working with me. Plus, it was on campus so that was also nice; I was saving up the gas.

Until finally, my senior year. I recall good memories and bad. I recall changing my position as a tutor towards an office assistant. I watched plays with friends and laughed when we talked about our stories in humor writing. I wrote with purpose again because I wanted to go for a humorous appeal while also contemplating what I would want to publish later on in my life. I studied an epic poem that further made me philosophically question my position in this world. I started a writing group which I intend to follow through in the summer as we collaborate and critique works. I have a checklist of books that are waiting for me to hop into bed with them, while the drawer light encompasses and gives me eyes I need due to my lack of night vision. I want to camp, go to the beach, run again, build up my knee strength to have it work again. But most importantly...

I need to find a job to pay my phone bill. *sigh*

Just saying

Sometimes, I have the most random thoughts. There are times when I write them out in my journal, and once you write them in pen (ink is cleaner to an extent), you realize you wrote some pretty weird stuff.

Some have to do with what I was going through in that particular time of day, or just how that day was in general. Other times, I write fiction or creative non fiction which focuses on events that I try to recollect in my life with little help from outside sources.

I think that is one of the reasons that I write now. I feel as though by writing every event as well as I can recollect it, it helps my brain go back to that time and remind myself what I did, or what I dreamed, or how I felt. Normally, when I don't make any sense throughout the story, I know it is my way of rambling on paper. And that, although not clear to anyone, makes me conscious to know that I have something to say, but I just didn't have the proper words to say it.

Sometimes when I read my old journal entries, I get bored. Like in one of my travel journals of when I went to Mexico, I got so bored that I didn't even finish reading it, when I know that there is something that is useful. But I was bored, therefore I wrote boring entries.

Other times, I write with a fierce standpoint about a certain topic. But to write like that has been a while. I remember the last entry like that was one of an immigration reform that was going on this past year. That, I can safely say is the latest topic.

The majority of my writings are to keep myself from stopping. I don't want to stop reading or writing because it is what I love to do. I love pointing out certain emotions and going back to relate to them. I love reading how Mr. Darcy falls in love with Ms. Elizabeth and tells her straight out. I love writing about my dream that I had the previous night, and not on a computer monitor, but to myself. I am a strong advocate for writing in journals, because I feel that is when you have no one to impress but yourself. It is you with your own personal examination of how you feel that certain day, week, month or even that tiny second.

It's realistic to yourself. Why lie to yourself? It's not like you're trying to impress you. You already know that you are awesome.

Second day went....

Well in the workforce and classes (so excited for screenwriting class!). But the one thing that I had trouble with was my friend Michelle. She is a beautiful person but her punctuality is a little off.

But in the end, the quest for a book $5 less than the price and annotated for me will be a good investment... At least I hope it was.