For my creative writing seminar, we got asked to write an essay about how we see ourselves as a reader. What do we read, who do we read, what authors do we like, and what is writing in general and what is it's purpose. I liked my essay so I thought I would share it with you.
My favorite author is Ken Kesey. It has been this way since 2005 and I am sure that it will stay this way. Our relationship is different than most relationships between a reader and their favorite author. I have only read two of his novels and only really enjoyed One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Not that Sometimes a Great Notion isn’t a well written and wonderful example of literary art— it is, in case you are curious— it’s just that reading over 700 pages about logging really isn’t my literary niche. Now my infatuation was not love at first sight. In fact, I thought he was too odd for me at first. It was one sentence that is nestled in the middle of Cuckoo’s Nest: “But it’s the truth even if it didn’t happen.”
The perfect sentence.
This one sentence convinced me to write. This one sentence taught me the basics of writing.
Really, what is the truth? Is it fact? Is it photographs, records, or data? Can the truth be in oral stories, printed stories, or visual stories? Can it be in memory? All writers try to test some truth. They build off of truth, challenge a truth, or completely humiliate the truth by drowning it in falsity. But we all see a different truth. I see the murder from the northeast corner and another might see the murder from the west— our truths are two different and varying truths. They might even challenge each other.
And truths from memory are the foxes of the bunch. No one remembers anything correctly. You can try but you will fail. But that is the fun of being human— we attract error like it is our pastime. The truth we remember might have never happened at all. In fact, we pass falsities as truths all the time and don’t even realize it. Liar.
But this is where writing comes in. Writers try to interpret all these “maybe truths.” They might expand on them, confront them, or explore what the actual truth is. It doesn’t matter what they do with their “truth,” as long as they are doing something with it. At the base of every story is a kind of truth. That is its nugget, its heart, its raw and exposed form.
Writing makes this interpretation of the truth available to everyone to grasp, read, and interpret. Each book is a piece of truth or different perception of the truth. So think about it: Once every book that is to ever be written is written, we will be able to know the actual, real truth. All these pieces will flood together and, insert drum roll here, the truth! But that will never happen (or at least I hope to not be around when it does) so instead we get to examine the pieces and hopefully one day develop a decent enough grasp of truth in order to be happy with ourselves.
So I don’t prefer a genre, I read as much as I can (though I do tend to ignore science fiction and vampire fiction) so I can gather as many pieces as possible.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Friday, July 10, 2009
Botox means you think you are better than everyone else. (And you're not, by the way)
So I feel it is time for a rant. It's been a while. On the news today, there was a brief segment on the new and improved botox, an anti-aging 'miracle' and one I can not comprehend.
I like time. Time makes us, as humans and as a collection of matter, one unit. Every thing has to obey time. And aging is time, just visualized. Rocks, trees, raccoons, leaves, fungus, stars, even the Earth it's self is no match and is not above time.
So why should we? Why do some people think they are better than time, a constant constant. It's not going away at anytime and isn't it nice to know that something is always going to be the same. Things change- grass grows, buildings decay, the world turns, the Sears Tower gets a name change. Thing advance- scientist can basically grow a full human in a lab and I am sure that there is a Jurassic Park hidden somewhere where lots of scientist's children are either really happy or really dead. But time is always the same. It's not going to be faster, slower, sloppier, soggier, or more annoying than it is always is. Isn't it nice to know that ONE thing, among a plethora of things, is always going to be there for you? It's the father that goes to all the dance recitals, its a hug that is always warm, a laugh that's always boisterous and echoing down the hall.
Don't rob yourself of time, it is the one thing that makes us just like everything else and, contrary to everything you learn on PBS, you are not that special, you are not an original, you're just an individual and that's A-OK.
So love your wrinkles- fill them with jello and creep out the hooligans next-door, wriggle them around so they look like water, stuck in time as it is flowing over a soft, rounded ledge, smile wide so all your creases can smile too. Your wrinkles connect you to everything-the sun, Saturn, water, cute kitties in lobster costumes, crayons, the Mona Lisa, a zipper.
I know I am young and I might think differently when I have more wrinkles than a very deep laugh line (one that took a very long time to acquire) on the left side of my mouth and a frowning wrinkle (something to remind me of how serious I can, and shouldn't, be). But I like having a bind to everything and everyone. It goes past anything that I can see, including wrinkles.
And just like everything else, Botox is going to fail to time. It will sag, or, as we know already, hold your face too tight, robbing you or your of smiles. And I am sure you will miss the laugh lines that have been aquired from years of pranks, sneaking into movies theaters, sneaking out of bedrooms and onto motorcycles, and getting a horrible haircut before Senior Pictures. Sooner or later your memory will fail and nothing, not even your laugh lines, will be able to remind you of the tales of your youth.
So throw your wrinkles a party! Time is the mighty uniter and we shouldn't be afraid to show with pride that we have been touched by time.
I like time. Time makes us, as humans and as a collection of matter, one unit. Every thing has to obey time. And aging is time, just visualized. Rocks, trees, raccoons, leaves, fungus, stars, even the Earth it's self is no match and is not above time.
So why should we? Why do some people think they are better than time, a constant constant. It's not going away at anytime and isn't it nice to know that something is always going to be the same. Things change- grass grows, buildings decay, the world turns, the Sears Tower gets a name change. Thing advance- scientist can basically grow a full human in a lab and I am sure that there is a Jurassic Park hidden somewhere where lots of scientist's children are either really happy or really dead. But time is always the same. It's not going to be faster, slower, sloppier, soggier, or more annoying than it is always is. Isn't it nice to know that ONE thing, among a plethora of things, is always going to be there for you? It's the father that goes to all the dance recitals, its a hug that is always warm, a laugh that's always boisterous and echoing down the hall.
Don't rob yourself of time, it is the one thing that makes us just like everything else and, contrary to everything you learn on PBS, you are not that special, you are not an original, you're just an individual and that's A-OK.
So love your wrinkles- fill them with jello and creep out the hooligans next-door, wriggle them around so they look like water, stuck in time as it is flowing over a soft, rounded ledge, smile wide so all your creases can smile too. Your wrinkles connect you to everything-the sun, Saturn, water, cute kitties in lobster costumes, crayons, the Mona Lisa, a zipper.
I know I am young and I might think differently when I have more wrinkles than a very deep laugh line (one that took a very long time to acquire) on the left side of my mouth and a frowning wrinkle (something to remind me of how serious I can, and shouldn't, be). But I like having a bind to everything and everyone. It goes past anything that I can see, including wrinkles.
And just like everything else, Botox is going to fail to time. It will sag, or, as we know already, hold your face too tight, robbing you or your of smiles. And I am sure you will miss the laugh lines that have been aquired from years of pranks, sneaking into movies theaters, sneaking out of bedrooms and onto motorcycles, and getting a horrible haircut before Senior Pictures. Sooner or later your memory will fail and nothing, not even your laugh lines, will be able to remind you of the tales of your youth.
So throw your wrinkles a party! Time is the mighty uniter and we shouldn't be afraid to show with pride that we have been touched by time.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
A man on the street
I am partly using this blog as a writing and memory tool in order to remember all the odd things I see and do and use them in the future. This will hopefully explain the randomness of what follows.
I have been painting a lot recently but I am not too skilled at using a brush so I finger paint, leaving acrylics smeared into my nails and embedded into the dirty beige carpet they lays on only a quarter of my tile floor. I don't wash my hands incredibly well so there is always chunks of paint left on my skin that I pick at while in class. The other day, I was painting a color scape and was in a rush to meet a friend so I ran my hands under water for a few seconds and hurried out the door, layers of pink and blue paint caked on my hands. My hands were soggy still from the wet paint and the water so I was trying my best not to touch anything and treated my hands like I was running with scissors. I heard the bells strike and realized I was late so I started to pick up my speed. In true klutz fashion, I tripped on an invisible speed bump in the air, making me fall forward an catch myself on the nearest stationary object. That object happened to be a man standing in the middle of the side walk staring up at nothing but the rain the was falling in huge drops that splash open and reveal a reflection of the dingy purple sky. My painted hands smeared on his right arm leaving a sad trail of faded baby colors. I was in a trench coat, scarf, rain boats, and had two layers of sweatshirts on that made impossible for me to bend my arms more than 90 degrees-- all he wore was a t-shirt and jeans that had a long whole along the right seem that ran parallel with the tops of his sneakers. I apologized but he didn't move or acknowledge my words. So I apologized again. Nothing. I tried a different approach.
"You have a paint on your arm," I said loudly.
Not a flinch.
I looked at the sky that he was staring at. It looked like the same sky that comes before a tornado, trying to clear out all the rain before the wind. Then I looked at him. His chin was very high, which put him in an uncomfortable looking position. I noticed that there were tears in his eyes, tears that were not streaming done his face because gravity had no where fro them to go. I didn't know what to do! I hoped that it wasn't the paint drying on his arm that made him cry and, by the slow steady mummers of pain, I knew it was more than that. I wanted to talk to him, wanted to find out what was wrong and if he needed any help. But I was running late. The only thing I could think to do was to give him a hug. I put my purse in my hand, walk right in front of him and threw my arms awkwardly around his, which were tight on his sides. He moved his head out of the awkward position, causing his tears to crash onto the shoulder of my raincoat. I could feel his gaze as I walked away, turning back a few feet down to see that he had decided to take cover in the library.
I have been painting a lot recently but I am not too skilled at using a brush so I finger paint, leaving acrylics smeared into my nails and embedded into the dirty beige carpet they lays on only a quarter of my tile floor. I don't wash my hands incredibly well so there is always chunks of paint left on my skin that I pick at while in class. The other day, I was painting a color scape and was in a rush to meet a friend so I ran my hands under water for a few seconds and hurried out the door, layers of pink and blue paint caked on my hands. My hands were soggy still from the wet paint and the water so I was trying my best not to touch anything and treated my hands like I was running with scissors. I heard the bells strike and realized I was late so I started to pick up my speed. In true klutz fashion, I tripped on an invisible speed bump in the air, making me fall forward an catch myself on the nearest stationary object. That object happened to be a man standing in the middle of the side walk staring up at nothing but the rain the was falling in huge drops that splash open and reveal a reflection of the dingy purple sky. My painted hands smeared on his right arm leaving a sad trail of faded baby colors. I was in a trench coat, scarf, rain boats, and had two layers of sweatshirts on that made impossible for me to bend my arms more than 90 degrees-- all he wore was a t-shirt and jeans that had a long whole along the right seem that ran parallel with the tops of his sneakers. I apologized but he didn't move or acknowledge my words. So I apologized again. Nothing. I tried a different approach.
"You have a paint on your arm," I said loudly.
Not a flinch.
I looked at the sky that he was staring at. It looked like the same sky that comes before a tornado, trying to clear out all the rain before the wind. Then I looked at him. His chin was very high, which put him in an uncomfortable looking position. I noticed that there were tears in his eyes, tears that were not streaming done his face because gravity had no where fro them to go. I didn't know what to do! I hoped that it wasn't the paint drying on his arm that made him cry and, by the slow steady mummers of pain, I knew it was more than that. I wanted to talk to him, wanted to find out what was wrong and if he needed any help. But I was running late. The only thing I could think to do was to give him a hug. I put my purse in my hand, walk right in front of him and threw my arms awkwardly around his, which were tight on his sides. He moved his head out of the awkward position, causing his tears to crash onto the shoulder of my raincoat. I could feel his gaze as I walked away, turning back a few feet down to see that he had decided to take cover in the library.
Monday, March 30, 2009
No time, no day, just the sun and the ocean
I have been back from my road trip for a few weeks now and I am sure that I can no longer work on a schedule. First, our plans for the trip changed the day before we left. Yes, that is right, a few short hours before we departed on the wide open highways, we decided to no longer go to snowy North Carolina but to sunny and warm Florida instead. We still wanted to hit up some crazy awesome pretty roads so we took the long way. But we had a few issues.
1) We had only 3 brakes. One was being a pain so we evicted it the day before we left.
2) The tire blew 5 hours into the trip.
Luckily, we were only a few feet from a store that had tires so we trucked on over there and were told that they had the tire in stock. Well, they lied. The had the size bigger. So lets do a recap.
-3 brakes
-3 good tires
-1 too big tire
Ok, we are all together now. So we trucked on and then there was an AWFUL rumbling. It sounded like the engine had a stomach ache and that someone put a mega phone to it. It was so loud that it could be heard over the radio. This deserves a recap
-3 brakes
-3 good tires
-1 too big tire
-1 knocking engine
So we stopped for the night and were planning on heading back. The next morning, we simply got an oil change and, tada!, it was all better. So we trucked to south of Atlanta where we stayed with my cousin and then went to Florida!
We started on the panhandle at St. George's island, this awesome white sand island in the gulf. Then we went on over to St. Joesph's peninsula, which was by far the prettiest. But we learned quickly that just because it is 75 or so during the day does not mean that it is not going to be freezing at night. It was seriously 30 degrees out and we were not prepared. And, because we were in the sticks, there was NO WHERE to get warm clothes or food that wasn't pb&j (what we had for about 4 days or so).
After all the saints, we went to visit Jason's (by boyfriend and fellow road tripper) uncle in Venice. This, my dear friends, is the Mecca for old people. This is there mothership, their pre-death cemetery, if you will. They love this place. And they are all tan. Even their wrinkles are tan. After making fun of old people, seeing Watchmen, and sleeping on a bed for a whole 2 nights, we decided to head over to Disney! But, this was not without a few glitches. First, at the camp we were staying at, the BEARS WERE ACTIVE! Not even kidding. They had pictures and everything. Then, the night before Disney, we got in a very literal fender bender. We bent the right fender.
So, in case you forgot:
-3 brakes
-3 good tires
-1 too big tire
-1 knocking engine (somewhat fixed)
-1 bent right fender
But that didn't stop us.
I work for Radio Disney Chicago so I got some tickets mailed down and we two twenty something year olds acted like a bunch of little kids in Disney. We took pictures and frolicked and everything!
They day after, we took the long 18 hr drive back home. For 10 days we did whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. We spent every second together, literately next to each other non-stop, and it rarely became an issue. A simple 2 week break felt like summer break, a good long break. Nothing mattered. Being back on a schedule is AWFUL! Terrible in every way possible. I have never hated school more than I do right now. I feel like a hippie mad at the man for bringing him down. I hate that I have to check the time, all the time. I can not right to not bother with time again. Soon enough, my friends. Then you will have another long post.
Love,
Lilia
The day we left for the trip Some pretty moutnains
1) We had only 3 brakes. One was being a pain so we evicted it the day before we left.
2) The tire blew 5 hours into the trip.
Luckily, we were only a few feet from a store that had tires so we trucked on over there and were told that they had the tire in stock. Well, they lied. The had the size bigger. So lets do a recap.
-3 brakes
-3 good tires
-1 too big tire
Ok, we are all together now. So we trucked on and then there was an AWFUL rumbling. It sounded like the engine had a stomach ache and that someone put a mega phone to it. It was so loud that it could be heard over the radio. This deserves a recap
-3 brakes
-3 good tires
-1 too big tire
-1 knocking engine
So we stopped for the night and were planning on heading back. The next morning, we simply got an oil change and, tada!, it was all better. So we trucked to south of Atlanta where we stayed with my cousin and then went to Florida!
We started on the panhandle at St. George's island, this awesome white sand island in the gulf. Then we went on over to St. Joesph's peninsula, which was by far the prettiest. But we learned quickly that just because it is 75 or so during the day does not mean that it is not going to be freezing at night. It was seriously 30 degrees out and we were not prepared. And, because we were in the sticks, there was NO WHERE to get warm clothes or food that wasn't pb&j (what we had for about 4 days or so).
After all the saints, we went to visit Jason's (by boyfriend and fellow road tripper) uncle in Venice. This, my dear friends, is the Mecca for old people. This is there mothership, their pre-death cemetery, if you will. They love this place. And they are all tan. Even their wrinkles are tan. After making fun of old people, seeing Watchmen, and sleeping on a bed for a whole 2 nights, we decided to head over to Disney! But, this was not without a few glitches. First, at the camp we were staying at, the BEARS WERE ACTIVE! Not even kidding. They had pictures and everything. Then, the night before Disney, we got in a very literal fender bender. We bent the right fender.
So, in case you forgot:
-3 brakes
-3 good tires
-1 too big tire
-1 knocking engine (somewhat fixed)
-1 bent right fender
But that didn't stop us.
I work for Radio Disney Chicago so I got some tickets mailed down and we two twenty something year olds acted like a bunch of little kids in Disney. We took pictures and frolicked and everything!
They day after, we took the long 18 hr drive back home. For 10 days we did whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. We spent every second together, literately next to each other non-stop, and it rarely became an issue. A simple 2 week break felt like summer break, a good long break. Nothing mattered. Being back on a schedule is AWFUL! Terrible in every way possible. I have never hated school more than I do right now. I feel like a hippie mad at the man for bringing him down. I hate that I have to check the time, all the time. I can not right to not bother with time again. Soon enough, my friends. Then you will have another long post.
Love,
Lilia
The day we left for the trip Some pretty moutnains
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Your typical artsy road trip...
So I think I am an artsy girl.
I read, I write, I draw, I finger paint, I wear stuff from thrift stores.
What artsy life would be complete without at least one random road trip to nowhere? So next Friday, I will fulfill my artsy destiny, hop into an increasingly shrinking Miata and make an epic drive through Indiana, Kentucky, Virginia, and North Carolina as I scribble in my little black writing journal about a hopefully sunny and warm drive through the mountains. I have visions of me, with my awesome teal suede jacket, my fantastic sunglasses with artsy metal work on the side that I got for $2 at the popcorn fest (best find ever!), and my freshly curled hair whipping around in the breeze as I enjoy a windy drive through the mountains, the sun warming the top of black hair. Kind of like Easy Rider but with out the motorcycles or the LSD or Jack Nicholson or the tragic ending.
Too bad it is February and the only thing warm in February is the inside of a heated house.
And since I am hoping that mother nature isn't a total bitch, we are camping most of the way as well.
But perhaps the most thrilling aspect of the trip is that we really do not have a destination; we are driving for the sake of driving. I am thrilled to yet again be surrounded by mountains, heaping and on edge, as if their peaks will tip right into our car. I miss the trees and the smells of the mountains that I was submerged in most of this summer when I spent a month in Oregon. I miss looking up in the sky and seeing every single star that is visible. This road trip will be partly to get all of that back and partly to see if I am capable of being on the road, since I hope to go on a few of these for my writing.
And so I will depart on my Jack Kerouac, Merry Pranksters-esq road trip but with less drugs and fewer prostitutes.
Be prepared for an epic post once I return...
I read, I write, I draw, I finger paint, I wear stuff from thrift stores.
What artsy life would be complete without at least one random road trip to nowhere? So next Friday, I will fulfill my artsy destiny, hop into an increasingly shrinking Miata and make an epic drive through Indiana, Kentucky, Virginia, and North Carolina as I scribble in my little black writing journal about a hopefully sunny and warm drive through the mountains. I have visions of me, with my awesome teal suede jacket, my fantastic sunglasses with artsy metal work on the side that I got for $2 at the popcorn fest (best find ever!), and my freshly curled hair whipping around in the breeze as I enjoy a windy drive through the mountains, the sun warming the top of black hair. Kind of like Easy Rider but with out the motorcycles or the LSD or Jack Nicholson or the tragic ending.
Too bad it is February and the only thing warm in February is the inside of a heated house.
And since I am hoping that mother nature isn't a total bitch, we are camping most of the way as well.
But perhaps the most thrilling aspect of the trip is that we really do not have a destination; we are driving for the sake of driving. I am thrilled to yet again be surrounded by mountains, heaping and on edge, as if their peaks will tip right into our car. I miss the trees and the smells of the mountains that I was submerged in most of this summer when I spent a month in Oregon. I miss looking up in the sky and seeing every single star that is visible. This road trip will be partly to get all of that back and partly to see if I am capable of being on the road, since I hope to go on a few of these for my writing.
And so I will depart on my Jack Kerouac, Merry Pranksters-esq road trip but with less drugs and fewer prostitutes.
Be prepared for an epic post once I return...
Sunday, February 8, 2009
A lettter to the lake effect
I go to school in Northwest Indiana and live in Chicago. I always thought that I was acquainted with the awfulness of Midwest weather. But I was young, naive, and unaware of the lake effect. After being buried under almost three feet of snow, it is now in the forties and was in the fifties yesterday. But I will not get my hopes up.
Dear Lake Effect,
Northwest Indiana is a place of corn, corn, and more corn. There really is not much here that is thrilling or a draw. In fact, Northwest Indiana is really good and bringing people to the realiztaion that the Midwest sucks. But it does have one good quality- the beach. Not only is it naturally beautiful, the rolling blue waves on the clean sand look even better after a horrible terrible winter and after driving a few minutes through cornfields. So how am I supposed to feel when I discover that my beloved lake Michigan- the very body of water that brings me summer time joy- brings me the coldest, most shivery, winter time woes? Not only do I receive the menopausal weather that the Midwest brings, we here in Northwest Indiana get it tenfold. How am I supposed to pretend to enjoy negative forty wind chills, weather so icy that each twig on a bush or branch on a tree is encased in ice, or snow that goes up to my knees and then freezes over the next day? Even better, is that I have to walk to class in this fantastic display of what the Midwest has to offer. The most terrible part of it all is the beautiful weather that is sitting pretty outside my window. It is stunning by all means: sunny, warm, a slight spring wind. Everything that we, the Northwest Indiana residents, look forward to. But I know it is just a tease. A taste of what is to come. But it will not come soon. It will take you, my darling Lake Effect, about two more months to stop being a pain. It is nice now, maybe you are tired or wanted a warm break as well. But I am well aware of your games. So I have a proposal to present you. You love to make people miserable. You love to crush their warm weather hopes. And you are very, very good at this. So why don't you go down to Florida for a little bit, about two years are so, and I will stop cursing you to hell. Sound like a plan?
Don't forget your sunscreen,
Lilia
Dear Lake Effect,
Northwest Indiana is a place of corn, corn, and more corn. There really is not much here that is thrilling or a draw. In fact, Northwest Indiana is really good and bringing people to the realiztaion that the Midwest sucks. But it does have one good quality- the beach. Not only is it naturally beautiful, the rolling blue waves on the clean sand look even better after a horrible terrible winter and after driving a few minutes through cornfields. So how am I supposed to feel when I discover that my beloved lake Michigan- the very body of water that brings me summer time joy- brings me the coldest, most shivery, winter time woes? Not only do I receive the menopausal weather that the Midwest brings, we here in Northwest Indiana get it tenfold. How am I supposed to pretend to enjoy negative forty wind chills, weather so icy that each twig on a bush or branch on a tree is encased in ice, or snow that goes up to my knees and then freezes over the next day? Even better, is that I have to walk to class in this fantastic display of what the Midwest has to offer. The most terrible part of it all is the beautiful weather that is sitting pretty outside my window. It is stunning by all means: sunny, warm, a slight spring wind. Everything that we, the Northwest Indiana residents, look forward to. But I know it is just a tease. A taste of what is to come. But it will not come soon. It will take you, my darling Lake Effect, about two more months to stop being a pain. It is nice now, maybe you are tired or wanted a warm break as well. But I am well aware of your games. So I have a proposal to present you. You love to make people miserable. You love to crush their warm weather hopes. And you are very, very good at this. So why don't you go down to Florida for a little bit, about two years are so, and I will stop cursing you to hell. Sound like a plan?
Don't forget your sunscreen,
Lilia
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Resolutions are difficult
So it has been a while...
I don't beleive in a lot of simple things. New years resolutions happens to be one of these. If there is a problem that you want to fix, then why not do it whenever the heck you feel like it. Why the need for an occasion.
Well without an occasion, I have been failing.
So I decided to have new years resolutions this year to see if I can fix some little problems by attaching them to a cheesy tradition.
The Resolutions:
To not swear
To think positive
To not talk down to my sister
To turn in all forms, homework, everything on time
To turn in big deal things (papers,resumes) early, at least 2 days
To practice dance more
The Reasons:
I swear like a dirty dirty man
This used to be my thing but lately, for about a month a so, I have been a pouting panda, I miss the smiles
My sister is leaving for school in just a few months and I should make the most of our relationship before I have to drive hours to see her
I am really good at turning things in really late but I still get away with it. I have a feeling that in big kid world, everyone won't be so forgiving
I figured that if i set out to turn things in early, I will be on time
I already practice about 10 hours a week for various dance groups and teams but I can always work more
It has been almost a month and I feel that now is a good time to do a progress report.
Swearing- Ha! Like anyone thought this one would last. I tried really hard for about four days and then my friends got sick of being called slutty pandas instead of bitches. So I switched back.
Thinking Positive- I have been trying at this one but I am a poor, overworked, under-loved college student so I can only be so positive and not need medication
Be nice to my sister- so far, I say so good. We spent a few weekends together and we didn't beat each other up.
Turn Stuff in on time/early- haha... ya... I guess blaming this one on my race only goes so far...
Practice Dance- I feel like all I do in my free time is practice dance. I am so over danced that looking at my dance shoes gives me this horrible pitted feeling in my stomach (that is now getting flatter because of dance) So I will I have been practicing more than I used to.
So far, I have learned that by making resolutions, I feel like I let my self down more but I still failed on the ones that I thought I would fail on. I still beleive that resolutions are silly and useless that we should all just fail our goals and not give them a fancy name...
How have your resolutions gone?
I don't beleive in a lot of simple things. New years resolutions happens to be one of these. If there is a problem that you want to fix, then why not do it whenever the heck you feel like it. Why the need for an occasion.
Well without an occasion, I have been failing.
So I decided to have new years resolutions this year to see if I can fix some little problems by attaching them to a cheesy tradition.
The Resolutions:
To not swear
To think positive
To not talk down to my sister
To turn in all forms, homework, everything on time
To turn in big deal things (papers,resumes) early, at least 2 days
To practice dance more
The Reasons:
I swear like a dirty dirty man
This used to be my thing but lately, for about a month a so, I have been a pouting panda, I miss the smiles
My sister is leaving for school in just a few months and I should make the most of our relationship before I have to drive hours to see her
I am really good at turning things in really late but I still get away with it. I have a feeling that in big kid world, everyone won't be so forgiving
I figured that if i set out to turn things in early, I will be on time
I already practice about 10 hours a week for various dance groups and teams but I can always work more
It has been almost a month and I feel that now is a good time to do a progress report.
Swearing- Ha! Like anyone thought this one would last. I tried really hard for about four days and then my friends got sick of being called slutty pandas instead of bitches. So I switched back.
Thinking Positive- I have been trying at this one but I am a poor, overworked, under-loved college student so I can only be so positive and not need medication
Be nice to my sister- so far, I say so good. We spent a few weekends together and we didn't beat each other up.
Turn Stuff in on time/early- haha... ya... I guess blaming this one on my race only goes so far...
Practice Dance- I feel like all I do in my free time is practice dance. I am so over danced that looking at my dance shoes gives me this horrible pitted feeling in my stomach (that is now getting flatter because of dance) So I will I have been practicing more than I used to.
So far, I have learned that by making resolutions, I feel like I let my self down more but I still failed on the ones that I thought I would fail on. I still beleive that resolutions are silly and useless that we should all just fail our goals and not give them a fancy name...
How have your resolutions gone?
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