Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Thought Vomit.

Even though I have decided to write a serious post, my mind wants to run around and avoid the thoughts I have to type out. It's like trying to catch a toddler to give them a bath. It involves a lot of chasing, hiding, and splashing.

I see it even in my conversations with people. I make light of things that have more weight to them. I say, "I don't know," or make it seem like it's not a big deal, that I'm not serious about what I do. I'm not sure where this strange attitude has come from, but it's here.

Nonetheless, I feel like I have to write about what's really bothering me...maybe because I can't talk about it.

Ever since I was 13, I felt like I had some kind of talent in writing. I noticed it after my dad died, and kept going with it. I figured that I'd like to write for the rest of my life and never thought about doing anything else. If I couldn't make money writing creatively, I'd make it in journalism. Besides, I really liked writing about issues and seeing my name in print.

I worked hard through high school and worked my butt off at Kennesaw State. I left there with a 3.8 and transferred to the University of Georgia to pursue my dream of becoming a journalist. It was the place I had aimed to go for years. It was my ultimate goal. It may have seemed small to those going to private universities or ivy leagues, but it was my plan.

Now that I'm here, I often wonder what the hell I'm doing here.

I thought I was doing well last semester when I got A's on all of my Fink term papers. Now my second class with him, I feel like a failure. Sure, I got a B on my first paper of the semester. A B is good. But it's not good when you've made an A+ on three papers before. It's not good when Fink (master of news writing) says "your writing kills you."

Your writing kills you.

The one thing I know I am good at, kills me.

I am not multi-talented like a lot of people I know. I cannot sing, I cannot draw or paint, I cannot master an instrument, and I cannot do a good number of things. All I know how to do is write. And of course, I cannot even do this very well. But for it to have ruined my paper... kills me.

I know that Fink is only trying to help me and teach me how to write better. I understand this. I just don't understand how I could go back in time in regards to my writing. Maybe it's because I'm taking two English courses? Whatever it is, I need to fix it.


What am I going to do with my life? Do I want to write for a newspaper? I'd prefer not to.
Do I want to write for a magazine? Sure, but it'd have to be something important to me and to a lot of people. I couldn't write about fashion forever... I don't feel like it's important enough.
Do I want to be an editor? Yes, but I want to write too.

I want to be able to be creative with my words. I want to be someone people listen to. Someone people get inspiration from. I don't want to be stuck in a city council meeting hearing about an ordinance that is to be passed. That's just not for me.

I thought to myself today, "am I one of those girls who don't know what they want?" The answer was "yes." I don't really know what I want for myself, but at least I know myself.

God my music is annoying the crap out of me.


Like I mentioned before, sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here. I only have one other friend here besides Jenna. Bless Jenna, she's included me so much in what she does with her friends. I don't think I'd be as content as I am if I wasn't her roommate. But I haven't made any friends on my own accord. What is it that stops me from talking to people, branching out? Melissa is one of my good friends, but I don't see her a lot.

Sometimes I feel so alone. Do I really only have two friends here?
Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself. I have only been here a little over a year. I have no connections here other than school.


As you can tell, I have no answers for anything.

No matter what I write here, I still feel like I haven't fully explained my feelings on anything. As if words could describe the aching I feel sometimes.


  1. I wrote so much I have to split it into two parts.

    An update!

    Now allow me to offer my hopefully comforting words on the subject. And I totally get to re-write this since of my whole writing debacle yesterday.

    Me and you got a lot of pride. We thrive in succeeding and really beat ourselves down for failing. I can't say don't feel bad about not doing as well as you normally do. You saw how I was yesterday. I was completely crushed over my grade.

    But we need to remember that failing, as cliche as it is, is just as important if not more important than succeeding. Especially all of the time. I have no doubt in my mind that both of us will step up our games the next time around just to show that we can do it.

    It's a bummer for our GPAs sure. I know both you and I want to graduate with honors. And if that happens, more power to us. But we also need to focus on getting through this whole college thing. It's difficult for me in a way that I never expected. It's not that the material is hard. It's just a challenge in every other way. This is all stuff you know, but I'm just trying to remind you why we're here in the first place. To learn, graduate, get decent jobs, but most importantly to grow. I can see how much I've matured in the last year since coming here. And you undoubtably have too. I definitely think so.

    That's why kickboxing and just going and having fun is so vital for our health. We have this tendency to let this stuff really beat us down. It's really not important. Not really.

    Fink is giving you a hard time, fact. Those words were not light. I feel fortunate that that wasn't on my paper, though I basically told myself the same thing anyways. Ironically, it's not so much my writing but my editing, haha. Take it, absorb it, IMPROVE, and then just let it go. Given the nature of the paper, honestly.... and I almost hesitate to say it, it shouldn't be that big of a deal - your writing. Skimming through the material, it just didn't seem like writing skill should come forthmost. I don' think that's a word, oh well. That's not excuse, however. You should always strive for the best (how hypocritical of me to say). But really, I don't really understand why Fink was say something so harsh (and yet give you a B) but I have no doubt that you have learned and are learning more from it.

  2. And we're in the same boat, job wise. I really.... really don't want to be a journalist. I mean, it seems so hollywood and rather glamourous. And in a way, it sort of is. But it's such a challenge as well. I like writing. I love photography. So I'm going on that path, but I'm still very doubtful. And that's mostly because I lack passion outside of a few hobbies. I'm just so blah about whatever I do that I feel like I could do whatever and get by. That makes me so incredibly sad because, well, I don't want to get by on blah. I just have to put my faith in God and to know that he knows where's he taking me and it'll all be worth it. You do the same.

    And breaking off that subject. Yes, friends are surprisingly hard to come by at this place. I don't know what it is exactly. As amazed as I am sometimes that we were fortunate enough to meet each other, and live with each other (because really, we get along ridiculously well) its almost a hindrance to growth outside of us. We're both very comfortable where we are and we miss out on other things. You need to remember, almost everyone I know here I knew through high school. At least everyone I hang out with sans you. Anybody else I've met through those same friends. I worry sometimes that I frustrate you by constantly almost forcing you to do things with us - not that we've done much this semester - but I'm glad that you enjoy it.

    And listen, my friend, you have far more than two friends at UGA. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that Sarah, Emily, Allie, even Kirsten who we don't seem so much, really really like you. And I know that they wish that they could see you more often. So remember that. You're basically surrounded.

    And we'e got a whole year left. A lot can happen in a year.

    Keep your chin up, ok?