Make a move.
What are you waiting for? The story to fucking write its self? That's not how it works. Nothing in life is just handed to you--the keys won't push themselves. What's a good story if not something from the heart? Probably a crime novel. But none the less, a story that isn't told with passion is one that doesn't need to be told. I'm not talking about writing stuff that will just pull at the strings of someone's heart. I'm not inducing tears, that can be left to Leigh Anne Tuohy and her following. I'm just here to write a good fucking story and for people to appreciate it for nothing more than that. I'm not going to change your life, make you find Jesus.
Who am I? What am I doing with my life? Who the fuck cares. I'm 22 years old, a college graduate, and I like to write. No need to dig any deeper than that. I'm a kid with things to say. Relevant things? Probably not. But that's why I'm posting them on my blog. Not that anyone reads this anyway. Maybe I'm just proving to myself that I still care about writing. Maybe I'm trying to rekindle the talent and passion I've hidden away inside a sea of alcohol and routine. Routine. Isn't that what college is about? You wake up feeling like shit. Stumble half-assedly to class. Fight through the bore. Then you fuck around until you're ready to drink again. And that's where we learn the skills that will get us through the rest of our lives? But the thing is, the classroom isn't where you learn the real life lessons. In 15 years, hell, 15 seconds, no one is going to care what I can tell them about 17th century poets. I don't even care. But what I can tell you, is that in 15 years, all the experience with risk management and crisis control is going to pay off.
I'm rambling. I like it though. It just feels good to me to be writing again. I'm overlooking the fact that it isn't really going anywhere. If not another soul on this planet reads this, I don't care. This is for me. It's therapeutic. I haven't bothered to take the time to write outside of class in over four years. I've really missed it. I love writing, I won't lie. But, here comes the routine again, I didn't find college as the right environment to do so. Rush, rush, rush. In our chapter (much love to xi-eta) we considered rush to be something that was "365." Which pretty much means, if you're not rushing something, you're doing something wrong. Good concept, unrealistic in practice. But nonetheless, if you don't have homework or a test (ECC major, so that was a given)you're expected to drink and be sociable. Yes, you can be sociable and hang out if you're not drinking. I'm not saying you can't. I'm just saying that, in most cases, binge drinking is a 4 year fixture in your life, and if you go over that, problems could arise. So carpe fucking diem. If you don't have anything looming over you the next day, why not celebrate? The real world is coming faster than you think. Don't blink.
I'm back. "Enrolled but No Schedule" is too good of a name to be treated the way I have. She's a classy lady, a 5 star chick (shameless Memphis rapper reference). As I said, a story with no heart is a story that shouldn't be told. But I'm back, and I have that heart. And I'm ready to tell some fucking stories. What will they be about? Who knows, who cares? But I'm going to tell the shit out of them. I may not know where my life is going, but I know where my passion is going.
Make a move.