Say Goodnight and Go.

For some reason, I suddenly really, really adore writing fiction in the present tense. It's amazing.

Wrote two more stories today in class. I love that the words are just flowing. Good prep for NaNo, which starts in TWO DAYS. It's crazy to believe. Yet, this month, much less this week, has stretched out forever, so I'm glad it's almost over.

(Haha. I first typed "much" in that last sentence as "mush". Yeah. That's what my brain has become lately, mush...)

I'm very excited for this weekend. Very very very. Why? Well, I'll tell you. Tomorrow is Halloween, possibly one of my favorite holidays EVER. It's amazing and awesome and wonderful. I'm dressing as Sarah Palin this year (*wink*), and I get to hang out with a bunch of friends I never see anymore because they're all still in high school (haha) at a party that night. Perhaps I'll get around to posting a picture of my outfit come Saturday, if I'm not all NaNoed out. :)

I'm psyched for Saturday because my older cousin is having a PJ party/movie night at her house. I miss her a lot, (and her adorable little daughter, yay!) so, yeah, that's going to rock.

Aaaaand I'm looking forward to Sunday because Matt asked if I could hang out with him for the afternoon, and that's always fun. He's a strange kid, that one. ^_^

Hmm. What else, what else, what else....

I think that's about it for right now. Hasta luego!

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Coldplay splurge, and other ruminations

You know, I'm not even sure I just used "ruminations" correctly. It sure sounds cool, though.

Yes. For the past... three days, I've been listening to nothing but Coldplay. Actually, that's a lie. But you get the idea.

More specifically, I've been listening to their latest album "Viva la Vida". It's lovely, it really is. I'm not sure exactly why I'm so attached to this album right now, but I can't get enough of it. In fact, I'm listening to it right now, right at this very moment as I am sitting at this computer consul in my school's very odd-looking library.

Seriously. You should see it. It's very odd.

Short story unit finally started today in my Creative Writing class. It was a bit disappointing, though, to start it off by showing up late for the first time since the semester started. I guess that's what happens when you're getting to bed after one in the morning after chatting online with certain people, only to find yourself suddenly wide-awake at 5:45 am. Then fighting to get back to sleep, only to have that take forever...

Ahem. Pardon my wandering thought processes, it's a recent occurrence that I'm not liking too much right now.

It was also a bit of a disappointment to walk into my class, only to look around and find that my new favorite person in class is absent for the third or fourth time in a row. I love this guy, seriously. He reminds me of a younger Remus Lupin (sorry... if you haven't read Harry Potter, you won't get what I'm talking about here) minus, you know, the werewolf thing. He's very quirky, and I'd love to get to know him better. *crosses fingers* Only, that doesn't work out so well if he's not in class.

Hmm. What else, what else...

Oh, yes. I wrote a short story today. Yes, you read that right: short story, not a fanfic. I'm rather proud of it, actually, despite the fact that half of it is taken from something that actually happened, and my professor said not to do non-fiction. Oh well. It's not like she's going to know that happened, anyway, so it's all good.

Also, I have to re-emphasize the fact that I believe the male gender is totally and completely whack. I think you'd agree with me if you had lived in my head for the past few days.

That's about it for now. Until next time, then...

"I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant,
O.G."

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Holy Election Year, Batman!

This picture is beyond all awesome: http://blog.newsarama.com/gallery/albums/userpics/10002/normal_dynamic_duo~0.jpg

With that, I go to sleeps. 'Night, world.

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Decisions

I figured while I was waiting for mi clase de español to start, I might as well post a little something, since I haven't in a while. This past weekend was mildly crazy, yet so worth it: camp counselor practice via a little something called "Adventure Weekends"! I'll definitely be going back next month; hopefully it won't be as crazy, we were way overbooked and had over 170 people running around with just ten of us staffing... welcome back to camp, indeed.

Oh! I also managed to scrape a pass on my driver's test last Wednesday, so I'm officially a licensed driver! Woohoo! *does little celebratory dance* Of course, my partying is dampened by the fact that I have neither car, nor insurance, nor job to pay for either of these. Oh well. One step at a time, I guess.

Anyway, what I really wanted to talk about is a scary thing called college. I've been investing time for the past few weeks in looking around for transfer schools. Currently, I'm leaning strongly towards a small public liberal arts school in Maine, but Chapman University here in SoCal as well as Champlain College in Vermont tag along on my list as second and third, respectively. I suppose it's now just a matter of meeting with a counselor and figuring out if I'll even be able to apply for transfer next fall; I don't want that big fat F I got in chem lab last semester to come back to haunt me.

I also need to decide on my major soon. I've already said that I'd like to pursue a major in Creative Writing, but, as my mom so lovingly pointed out a few months ago I'll "need to get a real job" after school. So, here comes the tricky part. I love history. I'd like to teach. So, do I double major in Creative Writing and History, or major in Creative Writing and minor in History? Or should I just forgo the Creative Writing altogether and major in Secondary Education, with an emphasis in History?

It's all very confusing.

Then there's the issue of money, and that's an entire issue by itself....

The only thing I'm really sure about? I want to travel/study/live abroad. If I don't, I shall be a very sad puppy indeed.

Until next time, I suppose. :)

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"Octoberesque"

There is no real weather here in San Diego.
Only varying stages of warmth,
perhaps “rain”
that waters the clean-cut lawns of our suburban sprawl
and leaves little kids squealing, clamoring to get away from the wet.
And Santa Anas that rage from the desert,
chapping lips and mussing hair of teenagers
as they walk to school in 54 degree weather in the middle of January,
propelling fire days instead of snow,
masks donned to breathe not coats to keep warm.
So can you blame me
if I’m at once elated and depressed
with endorphin counts falling—dead leaves on the wind—
that it’s the middle of October, and
finally looking like it.

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