The Sad Reality Of A Time Deprived Writer

I've opened Refracted's document on my computer and stared at it blankly more times in the last week than I can possibly count. I have no excuse, really, for not working on it. I have the plot, I know where it's going, the characters are talking to me, I love the story itself...what I lack though is motivation. Or, maybe, motivation is the wrong word. What I lack is passion.

More and more often nowadays I find myself not wanting to write.  

I don't want to write. 

There. I said it...and I'm pretty sure a part of my soul just died doing so. 

That's the sad reality of it though. I want to write. I really, truly do. It's not like I've completely lost my passion for it. I mean, I've been writing since my mom taught me how to form the letter 'A'. By now, I can't not write. My brain gets so cluttered when I don't. My fingers itch for the familiar feeling of an ink pen and the beauty of words on paper. Yet, when I sit down to write I want to cry. 

Why? 

Because I can't bring myself to write with an impending feeling of doom hanging over my head. An impending feeling that I should be doing something else. That's what makes me want to bawl my eyes out in frustration. 

Writing is my coping mechanism. For the longest time, writing was the only thing I thought I was good at. It's what made me me; what allowed me to be me. It's completely me. It's everything I've gone through, am going through, and may go through, It's my life.

Writing is as necessary to me as breathing and, darlings, right now I'm suffocating. 

It hurts so bad not being able to sit down and write without feeling like I'm being a bad student because there are a dozen projects I could be working on in that moment. But then it hurts even more when I think about where my life is going and I wonder if I'll ever have time to write after graduation at all. 

Have time to write...scoff...did you hear what I just said? I just broke one of the commandments of writing. "Thou shalt make time to write even when thou hast none to give." 

My roomate asked me the other night how I could stare at a computer for so long. I didn't say anything, primarily because I was in a grumpy mood,  but I thought, "Lots of practice." I used to be happy to get to the computer and write. I used to rush to it. I'd try to beat my siblings to it. Now I'm on it all the time checking emails, moodle pages, writing papers, doing interviews and research, working on journalistic stories for the school newspaper/my reporting class which no where satisfies my craving for creative writing. 

I'm never on my computer working on my novel or that selection of short stories (which I'm actully in the process of turning into a blog series) I've been meaning to put together, or that children's book series based on my childhood teddy bear that I think would be a great idea, or any of the stories I've started strictly for DeviantArt purposes...and I HATE it. I LOATH it with a fiery passion. 

I just want my characters back. I want to be able to sit down and write without feeling guilty. Even now, as I am writing this, I can name five different assignments I could be working on. The thought of them makes my gut twist in such a way that I'm tempted to stop writing right here and now, but if I did there would be no way I'd be able to sleep tonight. 

My mind is heavy with thoughts and facts that I'm supposed to memorize, and a list of tasks I have to get done, and I fear that if I stop writing I may be reduced to a puddle of anxiety induced tears. 

I've spent the last couple of weeks praying myself to sleep or listening to my detox playlist until I succumb to slumber. And every dream I've had has been nothing near restful. I've had work dreams, school dreams, dreams of horrible scenarios involving my family and friends that literally have me waking up wanting to puke...I'd like a dreamless night. Sadly, stress doesn't grant such requests and instead I just keep putting on a brave face and going about my day trying to keep my complaining to a minimum. 

I mean, I'm dealing. I haven't had an anxiety attack or anything yet, thankfully, but I am more than a little peeved at life right now. I'm especially peeved at certain people who seem to think that I should be doing more or putting more effort in. Yeah, sure, cause you know I came to this school with the ultimate goal to burn myself out before I hit middle age. 

Life demands more time than I have, but I'm trying really hard to make my own sunshine here.

A week ago, nearly two, I was back in Nebraska for spring break and one afternoon I was on my way home from Walmart with my mom and a van full of my siblings. One of my foster brothers said something about life not being fair and I responded to him by saying, "Life isn't fair. Life will give you lemons, but it's up to you to find the sugar to make the lemonade."

Finding the sugar is sort of my goal right now. Staying positive in a stressful time. Because a pitcher of bitter lemonade may still quench thirst but it doesn't completely satisfy and I want a life that I'm satisfied with. I want a life that when I'm old and grey I can look back on and say, "Yeah, not that was some good lemonade."  

I don't even want just the lemonade. I want the whole freaking garden party. 

I'm human and a human's life is as fragile as a candle's flame. It can go out at a moment's notice. It's short lived. Fleeting. It's mortal and I don't want the stress of my life to ruin it for me; to dictate whether or not I enjoy myself writing. 

I've made some pretty big decisions lately. Some decisions that are kind of expected for someone my age but were pretty big deals to me because -would you know -I'm not a huge fan of change. In fact, i despise change and love organization. Lists, cell alerts, calendars, and planners are the only way I can get stuff done. I love time management. Probably a little too much. 

I'll admit that I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to my time. Which is probably one of the main reasons I'm so stressed lately. Kinks keep getting thrown into my schedules and I don't like it. It makes me irritated.

Just a couple days ago, I was complaining to my roommate (Yeah, I mention her a lot. We live together and we're friends. Deal. With. It)  because I got on Facebook to send a message to someone about an assignment (yes, I was actually doing homework while on Facebook. It can be done) when I received four different requests from people wanting to hang out. 

I groaned and said something like, "As much as I love so-and-so I just don't have time for this." 

My roommate responded, and I applaud her for this because I really did need to hear it that day, by saying, "Yeah, it's sooooooooo horrible that you have friends who care about you and want to go out and do things with you. Friends are such a burden."

I was a bit taken aback at first but she forced me to stop for a minute and think about just how lucky I am. I mean, I do have some pretty awesome friends. The best, actually. And I'd rather hangout with them than stress about that one person that just won't respond to any of my messages but is essential to the assignment I'm working on.

You know what's funny? As soon as I acknowledged that my roommate was right and that I was overreacting, everything worked itself out. 

It worked itself out so well that I actually got a couple hours of free time that day, which I used to play the Lego Batman 2 game I just bought for myself. I wanted to write, but I couldn't, due to previously mentioned reasons. So I opted to spend those two house vegging in front of the TV and guess what else. I even got to see one of my best friends and former roommates who was in town.

Okay. So, yeah. I'm stressed. Yeah, I'm a bit more than peeved at life right now. Yeah, I'm wishing I was doing more creative writing. But you know, life's not all that bad. There still is some sugar left in this life. 

I've made it my goal tonight to not go to bed until I've completely exhausted myself from writing. I've written the whole next part of Refracted and am planning on editing and posting it before I hit the hay. I don't care how early I have to get up in the morning. I'm going to write to my heart's content tonight. 

And that, darlings, is all I have to say for now. 

Every Triangle has a Point...So I Guess this Post is a Circle.

It's 10:40 at night when I'm writing this, though it'll probably be a much different time when it's published, and I don't really know how I feel tonight. So, more than likely you're just going to get some of my rambling. Okay, yeah, you are. There's no real point behind this post. I just really felt like writing.

There's a group of people playing sand vollyball right outside my dorm window and I've spent the better part of this night watching them, because, you know, I have almost zero athletic capabilities. Plus, I learned back in high school that vollyball wasn't my sport. I'm more of a yoga doing runner, who's being forced to learn karate to meet her PE requirement for graduation. I'd sooner learn to swim then play vollyball...and I have a rational fear of water. Retract that. I have a rational fear of drowning. I have nothing against water itself. In fact, water and I are best buds. I quite enjoy showers,  a cool glass of water on a hot day, and a hot glass of water to make hot chocolate or coffee out of on a cold day. However, I've never quite gotten over almost drowning as a child. So there's that. Yet, even though I don't play vollyball I still enjoy watching. The same goes for basketball. Not so much football, unless I'm actually at the field. Football on TV is boring...any sport on TV is boring. I like the excitement of actually being there when it's being played. 

Watching those people play vollyball, though, makes me long for summer. I could really go for a bonfire or fish fry right now. It's been so gorgeous here lately that all I've wanted to do is find a lake with a rickety dock to sit on while I write and sip at a tall glass of supper sweetened ice tea. 

Can you tell that I'm really ready for break? I seriously need one. Thank heaven spring break starts tomorrow. Though, I don't actually get to go home until Sunday because my car decided to give up on life again in the Walmart parking lot. That seems to be it's go to place to die. It really does handle stress a lot worse than I do (Which is saying something because I'm not exactly the best person when it comes to dealing with stress. There's a reason I journal so much.). I wish it'd put on it's big girl panties and just suck it up. I can't slow down to take even a day off. Why should it be able to throw a temper tantrum like a two-year-old? Lame. It's just lame. 

On a side note, going back to our previous topic of sports, I had a karate midterm today. I didn't exactly do terrible. In fact, I found the written part to be extremely easy and the blocks, kicks, punches, stances, and self defense sets were fine...my kata though....yeah...

You see, I've spent the last week working my butt off to get that kata down. I looked it up online, found a diagram of the steps taken in it, made sure my stances were correct, that I was punching correctly, that my turns were correct, and that I was turning in the right direction. I was doing so well, too, on the midterm today...until I looked away from my fist and caught sight of the teacher. I may have also saw a certain guy -who shall remain nameless but has made his way onto my 'threat' list...that is a list of people I find to be threats. Not a list of people I intend on threatening -and I choked. I don't really know how it happened but my mind went blank. Half way through the kata and I forgot everything. 

I was so lost that I ended up literally throwing my hands in the air and saying to the professor, "I give up. I'm lost." And he just nodded at me like he had expected it. Anyway, I'm really hoping that didn't effect my score too badly. I had everything else down. I had that down too, until I actually had to do it in front of him and the class. 

Well, I don't really know what else to tell you, and I kind of want to read some more of Will Grayson, Will Grayson before I hit the hay. So I guess I'll let you go for the night, so I can go read instead of sleeping, which is what I should be doing because I have a 9 o'clock sociology class that I have to go to. I'll go to it no matter how tired I am. Because A) I need to go. Notes are important in that class. And B) I actually like the class. 

Chaos Precedes Change

“All great changes are preceded by chaos.”

~Deepak Chopra

                Friday night, March 6, 2015 started out like most weekends for my roommate and I. Our minds and bodies were utterly exhausted from the week we had just finished and, though we still had a weekend of work and papers that needed to be done ahead of us, we found ourselves sitting down in front of the television. She on her black bean bag chair, me on my lime green yoga ball, both of us with our phones in our hands and only half paying attention to the comedy we had playing on one of the two TVs that sit on our make-shift entertainment center.

             

   Being both mentally and physically exhausted, we talked about nothing while absentmindedly playing games on our phones. Everything from our current relationships to the exams we were currently studying for came up, and eventually the movie we were watching invoked a new topic of conversation.

                I, being bored, had popped my copy of Son-In-Law in the DVD player. My roommate, who had never seen it before, made a comment about co-ed housing. We chatted about our opinions on the idea of it for a few minutes before one of the main characters in the movie, Becky, made a remark about how even though she was at college she wasn’t going to change. Off handedly, I stated, “Something always changes when you go to college. If it doesn’t, then you’re doing it wrong.”

                “Yeah, seriously,” replied my roommate, who was now grinning while she made virtual salads on her phone.

                Being high level college students, we’re able to look back on our last few years here at the university we attend and see just how much we’ve changed. She, in her junior year, and I, in my senior, have experienced much over our college career. We started talking about it. About how we went from those shy, awkward freshmen pictured on our student IDs to the women we are today. How we went from thinking we knew everything and really knowing nothing to thinking we know nothing but constantly amaze ourselves with just how much stuff we really do know from our classes.

                They say middle school and high school are the most difficult times of your life and that college is the best time of your life. Well, let me tell you something, even those best times come with a few rain showers. Not everything is all peachy keen when you get to college.

             

   When you’re in high school you think, “Oh, college is going to be great! It’s going to be like having an apartment and I’ll be able to do whatever the heck I want.”

                The reality of it is that you realize just how much you really kind of liked living with your parents…then you develop a sense of independence. You get used to living away from them and then, when you return home for break –for the first time, and every other time after that –you are conflicted. Conflicted because you feel like you need to check-in with your parents while you’re home but know that you are more than capable of doing what you want, when you please. Knowing that you don’t need curfews or check-in calls…yet, secretly you do actually kind of like when mom or dad calls to ask, “Where are you?” Even though you may be living over six hours away and your answer to that question doesn’t really matter because they can’t really do anything about where you’re at in that moment any way.

                College is a journey. There’s no doubt about it. Sometimes you even feel like you’re Gilgamesh slaying Humbaba, or Odysseus escaping Polyphemus. Other times you feel like superman with a bunch of kryptonite stuffed down your pants.

                When you first enter college you’re like Mike, from Monster’s University, on his first day at campus. You’re in awe. You’re amazed at everything around you. You feel like you just stepped into an entirely new world and, in some cases, you have. The main thing on your mind is that you finally made it out of high school and that you’re now officially a college student.

               

                Going in you have such high expectations. You think everything’s going to be perfect. I mean, you’re away from home. Away from mom and dad. Away from whatever place you’ve been saying for the past four or so years that you couldn’t wait to get out of. How could it not be perfect?

                In your dreams, you see college like it’s your kingdom. You think that your dorm room will be your palace. Like you’ll finally have all this space to spread your wings.  

               

                But then you unlock that dorm door and you quickly realize that it’s more like this:

             

                So you start your job search so you can create that luxury life you want. Yet, between tuition payments, the upkeep of your car, and social events, you’re consistently broke. So you resign to surviving off cafeteria food for as long as possible.

          

      However, you soon realize that eating a sandwich every day for lunch gets old. So you go on an ultimate hide-and-seek game with the spare change you know is lying somewhere in your room and you end up taking everything you find to Burger King/McDonalds.

           

     

                And slowly, over the course of your first semester, you start to change and people back home start asking what happened to you. Some people even seem confused as to who you are at first.

               

                And you don’t know if you should care or not, because you are finally starting to feel comfortable in your own skin.

                You start developing this confidence that you didn’t even know you had before. Suddenly you feel like you could take on the world and become some sort of superstar activist. Felling like you could start some kind of ultimate awesome revolution against ‘the man’.

But then you realize the people you really want to start a revolution against are the ones questioning your major. So what if you chose one of the ‘worthless’ majors? Those people telling you how hard it’s going to be for you to get a job after graduation, how little the content of your classes matter, and keep asking, “So what exactly are you planning on doing with that degree?” are nothing but peasants anyway. They don’t know what they’re talking about and you feel the need to inform them of just how valuable your area of study is. So you shoot off random facts about how it ties into humanity and everyday life and they just stand there like, “Is she crazy?” or “Did I break her?”

                So you buckle down to show people just what you can do and how you’re not wasting your time...

              

                …but then you overwork yourself and get so stressed out that you realize your best friend isn’t your roommate, or that guy you think you might like, but is really the precious cup of coffee that keeps you awake through all those hours of studying.

          

                And eventually you reach a point where you’re just like: (Pardon the cursing in this)

               

                So you reason with yourself that you’ll be fine if you skip that one class or don’t take that one exam. And you end up getting into a funk where you give up and have reached the conclusion that you’re not going to make anything of yourself…and you’re okay with that…but then a friend intervenes and forces you to get your act together.

               

                You create a study group because if you’re going to do this then you aren’t going to do it alone. Besides, you know you’re better at English than that one person, but that one person happens to be better at history, and then there’s that kid that never misses a math problem…and boom, the A-Team of study groups is created.

                

                Then you push through, take your tests, and make it through all those courses required for your major. So you come out like:

            

                And then you blink and you realize time’s gone by faster than you could have ever anticipated and you’ve reached the end of your college career.

                Somewhere between all the pain, tears, late nights, bad quiz grades because you chose to socialize instead of study, and the lost friendships because you chose to study instead of socialize, and the deterioration of your mental state, and all the money you gave to the school in order to go through all your courses, you created a bunch of good memories and came out a changed person with friendships that will last a life time.

                You look in the mirror and you’re like, “Woah, look what I’ve become.” Because you’re no longer that awkward little freshman. You’re not even the same person you were four years prior. You’re not the same person you ever were. You’ve developed into something better; something brighter.

       

        

College is a rollercoaster of a ride, but it’s worth it in the end. When it all comes down to it, and you’re getting ready to graduate, you realize that even though you still don’t have your life completely together you have the means to make it where ever you want to go. Because you’re a confident new creature who knows she doesn’t know as much as she originally thought and is okay with that.