So here I am once again to post, and it's been forever. But hey I'm in college and I have 20 credit hours, and I'm going slowly mad so I have a lot on my mind.

As I noted before there's a particular person at this school that makes me miserable and right now I am desperately looking for him. I am on the editorial board of my school's literary magazine and this semester we're putting a CD of the various musical machinations of the students in the magazine itself. I'm editing and tracking down the bios for the contributors and he's contributing a couple songs (yes, he sings, ARG!) But to day also happens to be the opening of the new play at the college playhouse and he is playing the lead in that (he acts too, double ARG!) and guess who got the wonderful job of tracking him down and getting him to tell me about himself so I can publish it in the magazine. The answer is in the question. I really don't have time to write this, but I thought I'd give you an update. I just saw the Drama teacher out of the corner of my eye and I should ask him the location of his student...God preserve us.

It's funny how a little thing can change your entire outlook on life. Yesterday I was pretty much ready to throw in the towel. This morning I couldn't think of any better reason to get out of bed than the fact that I do it every morning and not doing so would throw off my rhythm. (Yes that would be the rhythm of my own personal drum to which I march.) Now I'm feeling fairly optimistic (and that's after reading sections of Candide, if you can believe it.)

It's funny the way the world works, how a person can cause another intense happiness without evening know they exist. In this case my happiness is completed by knowing that whether or not this person knows anything about me other than that I exist, my existence at least is out of question. Not only did he say "Hi," He said, "Hi, Hannah" Which makes a full two out of two out of my grand total of words that have passed between us in a single interaction.

This person, who will remain anonymous until I no longer have to worry whether he'll ever find out that I'm watching him out the corner of my eye when we're in the same room, has single-handedly lifted me out of this most recent homework-and-personal-insignificance-style depression. Now I can't even thank him, because it might create a need for embarrassing explanations I am too pathetic to give. Oh well, it's a start anyway. I'm such a sad creature.

No, not really. Despite what my coworkers are always saying I'm not on drugs. I wouldn't even know where to get them. Some people would consider that a sadly sheltered life. I'm about to give a presentation to my Humanities class on Shakespearian Sonnets. I really really neverous. In fact I'm having a bit of trouble typing this because my fingers aren't going where they're supposed to.  Oh well. I went for a walk to try to calm my nerves. I don't mind admitting to you that I was looking for someone, one person in particular who I didn't want to be here today. Yup, he's totally here. I'm so stupid, developing a crush on someone I've never talked to. Heck, I don't even really like him. Oh well. It's only a ten minute presentation. It will be over before I know it.

I am, in fact, a writing nut. I love it, love everything about it. Yet, at the same time, I hate everything about it. The constant waiting for the story to come to you, the disappoint when you try to rush it, the deep affection for each word as it appears on the page (or the screen, whatever the case may be) and the inevitable depression that is to come.

Writers or manic depressives.

Not in the clinical sense (though if they had some kind of pill for it I would be at the Pharmacy right now with cash in hand, and a couple of those free pens. I love those pens.) But I have noticed the pattern. It must be a psychological thing (cause I'm a psycho). It leaves you exhausted and feeling miserable. A story, mine anyway, seems to start with promise. Every word I set down is exactly what it should be no more no less. Then there comes the day when I workshop in Advanced Creative Writing (is that ever an ominous and demanding title for a class?) with some friends and fellow students. That day was today.

It started out a good day, I was nervous but more excited. I wanted to see the looks on their faces when I presented them with my brilliance. But as the hours passed my confidence began to drop, anxious glee was replaced with genuine terror and by the time I was about to read. My hands were shaking.

Just like a knew they would be, my fellow authors were kind, over kind. They liked it. I liked it too.  But there was some tweaking to be done, here and here and there and what about a little more character development in this area. They were  gentle but all I could think was that this was looking less and less like a literary oil change, more and more like a total overhaul. None of them knew what kind of agonies I was going through there. Except for the friend immediately to my right, to whom I had confided my stresses in the minutes before class.

Over all they liked the story. They want more. They think that I can expand it. Over all the day was a total victory, however I still feel like I'm losing. Every time someone doesn't embrace it, doesn't like it, or even just doesn't get me I feel like my entire world is folding in on itself. I feel like I'm competing with every other person in the world that has ever picked up a pen and scribbled out a few characters and a plot. Why is it like this? I was so confident this morning and now I'm feeling like there's hardly any point, even though everyone tells me (and I trust them to an extent) that there is.

Maybe I'll post "Verona's Wedding" on here some time. Maybe when I feel more like a person and less like a pile of heavily edited goo. God, it feels good to rant.

I have decided that I want something to do online. You know a mark to leave behind, and perhaps on the off chance that someone reads these a little feed back and a little advise. I really like the idea in place here, the only thing is I haven't tried using this in ages. I now think that I will post story ideas here, poems, excerpts. Anything I want. At least it's something to look at when I'm online, and to mess with. Also I would like to do some more random posts because their just fun to read, and I always wonder just what I was thinking when I typed them.

So therefore I offically open this journal for business once more. Wish me luck this time around.

(What follows is a paid phylisophical tip, from The Immortal Bookworm.)  NEVER EVER!
Go swimming in a puddle if you can't see the bottom. You might get wet, you might get dead. Puddles are dangerous people. Trust me. I'm parinoid and I want you to be too. The world is too small for there not to be danger around every corner. If that corner is a puddle so be it. There aren't enough corners to hide behind anyway. Vacant corner timeshares could be a lucrative business in the danger market, I'm sure. Beware the corner. Hell, beware the vacant lot. You can't be too careful nowadays, especially with puddles.

I let the stimulating exhileration trickle down the tips of him fingers, and breath the chill into every pore. I'm restless until I can run outside and watch my breath make great personal clouds. I adore cold whether; it's the only thing that can wake me up from those lazy summer days.

I am pleased as punch. (what an odd phrase...) It's at last officially Christmas break. I'm fairly stressed out over my coming biology class. I consider myself a grade A flunk out when it comes to all things science, but we'll see I guess. I'm out of college for about a month with a 4.0 average. It's all very exciting, which explains my punch-like-pleasedness. Not to mention I plan on attending several familly parties where punch will no doubt be served.

I have another reason to be excited though!

Sweeney Todd! It looks so bloody delicious! (really it does!) If it doesn't open in my area (and knowing my luck it probably won't...) I might have to slip into abject depression.

All's well that ends well though. As long as I get to see it and it doesn't flop I guess I can wait a few extra weeks.

Gosh, I should use this thing more often. I love the idea of blogging/journaling so if I could just start posting stuff I know I would eventually make a habit of it. Maybe I will start with posting writing assignments. I need something to do right? A little bit of an out let. So yes, I shall. I shall post an assignment. My last assignment for my Creative Writing class, and the only play I've ever actually written. Oooo, it's marvaculous of me I know.



Yes, yes...fun fun fun. It was enjoyable to write but I don't usual do that sort of thing. Anywho. That's my post *bows*

I have nothing to do with my life. I have wandered back and forth along the length of the school twice now, even wearing this three-thousand pound backpack I'm restless. I am so bored I am actually looking forward to when Math class starts in an hour and I get to listen to my aged teacher drone on about symbolic logic and truth tables.

I realize that I haven't done much with this account, that might explain why I have no responses and no one reads what I post. That is my fault I suppose. But this journaling helping me with my writing habits, and concidering that I am taking a college level Creative Writing class, that is a very good thing.

No one wants to read my journal so I will post my stupid assignments here just to shake things up, and since no one is reading them I won't have to be embarrassed, and since my assignments shall be sensational at least whoever isn't reading what I post won't be as bored as I.



Unused to Handouts

David,
This is an absolutely ridiculous situation to find myself in. I’m neither proud of myself, nor ashamed. Don’t think that I am writing this because I am too embarrassed to talk to you face to face. This just seemed easiest. If I say what needs to be said now, then there is no reason for us to have this discussion ever again, at least not until I am very old and can learn to have a sense of humor about such things. We can safely say this is not that day.
I think I have reconsidered. It’s not that I couldn’t do this without your help, but this will make it easier. There’s no reason that unrequited charity should strain our friendship. Just as there is no reason for you to worry about being reimbursed, I’ve thought that out too. Once I’m back on my feet we can get all that straighten out.
It wasn’t an easy decision to make. After all, my parents both, but especially my father, would never have accepted so much as a receipt at the grocery store if he didn’t think it was justly earned. It was thoughts of him that kept me from saying this earlier, and thoughts of him that are making me say this now.
It was no secret that he and I were not on the best terms in the end. The truth is I hadn’t said a friendly word to him for I don’t know how long, and he had fairly written me out of his book. I don’t think that he ever got past me being a waitress when I could have been a secretary at your firm for double the money. He didn’t understand all history I already we had at that point. I’m still proud of my decision, and wouldn’t have changed my mind even if Dad had cut me into his will.
You shouldn’t think that I’m doing this because jealous of Jess either. She was the good daughter, the one that didn’t give mom heart palpations. She was the one that always made it home before her curfew. Jess should get what was coming to her. She deserves it all and more, because she was the one holding dad’s hand at mom’s funeral. She was the one holding my hand at his.
So, as you know, my no-love-lost-attitude with my father is what led me to this letter. I know that I’m never going to get anywhere on a waitress’s salary. The small allowance dad left to me is just enough to keep my apartment form falling down around me. Rent is killing me, and you know, probably better than anyone, that this isn’t what I wanted for my future. God, we had so may plans when we were kids, didn’t we?
This is kind of a round about way of saying I’ve changed my mind, but it’s the only way I know how. This letter is hard enough to write without being straight forward with you. You know I was never good at that kind of thing. You should know though, that I’m over it. I’m over all the history and the fights and the way I always was jealous of your…social affluence, of the ease with which you dealt with people, even your parents. I’m over being high-school sweethearts too…mostly. This is me swallowing my pride and taking a hand up, so to speak.
Hey, I’ll see you on the 6th for dinner right?
Sincerely,
Lizzie Marshall-Afton
P.S. Never make me do this again.

It seems like very little time has elapsed between the end of the spring semester and the beginning of the Fall. That could be largely attributed to the summer class I took...It could be largely attributed to the job I got at a notable pizza place, from which I have gain an onion like aroma...but I digress. School is here again and I have so much homework I think I have gone quite mad, especially since this is the slow part of the semester. Wish me luck.

I am a wildly crazy HOUSE MD fan...for what ever reason. (It's kinda like a skin condition except there's not lotion for it) Anyway, my aboslute favorite character on the show is Dr. Wilson and a couple of weeks ago there was this whole convoluded thing where He ends up getting put on uppers by House who is just trying to prove a point. Aaaaanyway, I was browsing youtube vids and I found my absolutely fave line done way way to many times.

CHECK IT OUT!!




Ha ha! Robert Sean Leonard is so amazingly cool. If you have absolutely no Idea what's going on you can browse through the Wilson on speed movies on youtube and pretty much figure it out. I just had to put that up...now that I know how to do it...

I have had a rather delicious day. Lots of funny little quips mingled in with copious amounts of church pot-luck food.

I met several of my brothers friends on friday, and that was interesting because I didn't hate them. In fact I got along with them well and we hung out the whole night. (Bowling and Swimming with a Church group) It was refreshing not to repel everyone around me with my natural social "anti-magnetism".

Finals will be starting soon, and that is one muddy little storm cloud that has been lurking in my otherwise rapturous disposition. I plan to do well but I believe there is a quote about mice, men and math finals that is none too encouraging to that effect.

I started reading a new book. "City of Bones", and despite several qualities (I am picky when it comes to what I read) that I haven't cared for personally I have enjoyed it immensely and am only taking a break from the nail-biting suspence to preserve my sanity.

Mom and I have a movie date so I think I will say Farewell.

I felt like coming up with an interesting quote. The kind of quote you might say that makes someone else look at you funny and ask, "Where did that come from." Just so I could say, "My own pure brain."

This title hear is what I came up with...

I like it so well I drew it on a piece of paper with fancy lettering, and taped it to my door. :)

I didn't realize I had been busy enough not to be posting...

Maybe I am just forgetful...

Anyway, I took the ACT and that was hellish but I survived, and I signed up for a summer class and that was a rare form of stress relief. I have decided I want to meet new people kinda...

I might float around on LJ and see if I can find any communities I want to join. I have been writing a bit, but not as much as I would like. I want to write more tonight. Heck, I want to write more now, but I'm on a college computer and my ride will be hear in 4...make that about 3 minutes.

Later, I will write again soon because I can.



p.s. OH AND BEN FINALLY WROTE...not that I am excited.

Nothing interesting has happened recently...

Alright, that isn't true. Ben wrote me finally, so that at least it good. Megan is not his girlfriend so that to is good. My brother has a temperature of 104.2 so that is bad. Spring break is over so that is bad. But at least I am out of the house, so that is good.

If you can tell me what sort of mood I'm in I would be grateful.

I just want to curl up and die. There I said it.