Last night before I went to sleep, I decided it’s time to redecorate. This room reflects what I wanted to put on my walls four to six years ago. Maybe if it looks more like my life now, it will be easier to start living here again.

I keep reminding myself that in finding the leaving so difficult, how blessed must I have been. That if life just gets better like Leonard and B-Rob said, this next bit is going to be pretty fabulous.

But I am a college graduate now.

Although I am thrilled to have completed the part of my life that involves classes and homework, I now look at the pieces remaining and wonder how do I make the transition into a life so separate from what I have known before. The last time summer didn’t segue into a year of school was the summer I turned three. My sister wasn’t even born then.

This summer I will at least organize what I have. I will submit some poetry and essays to journals. I will read prolifically. I will (try) to figure out how to organize my pictures. I will grow into the life I have and rejoice that I have made it this far.

I will use the futur proche, even though some of these are not imminent happenings, because there will be/should/is no uncertainty that these things shall come to pass.

I am repressing the knowledge that in one week half of my possessions will be at home and the other half in the back a car sitting in Brit’s driveway. I will be laughing with friends, celebrating the successful conclusion of my education.

But then after the guests have gone and inevitability sets in, I will drive home. Perhaps it will be late enough or I will be tired enough to simply fall into bed. Or perhaps I will find my computer and sit on the couch with the long blue ethernet cable plugged in, wondering why this break feels so much more encompassing than the last time I was home for the weekend.

Perhaps after the appropriated amount of time has passed I will be able to determine whether this resistance is against growing up or leaving or change or something altogether un-named. At this point all I can identify for certain is a heaviness that wavers between my stomach and heart. I refuse to allow it admittance so far as my head, where I know it will force its way into the open, though I know it will get there eventually. And so I will plead ignorance of the future but grasp at every straw and fragment, clinging to the present while it is there. I have already (academically) accepted the departure, but I refuse to act upon it before such is rendered absolutely necessary by the turning of my back to Whitworth for the last time as a student.

Life is already starting to take a hue reminiscent of the summer camp I never attended.

“You should visit.”
“Oh, for sure.”

“We’ll keep in touch.”
“Definitely.”

Two weeks of goodbyes and lasts and solemnity does not appeal to me.  Denial, while perhaps not the most healthy, is the preferred option at this point.
I don’t even want to write this blog about not focusing on the impending end.

Too bad everything points to that.  The number of events occurring over the next two weeks, the fact that I’m trying to not buy more groceries, the absence of motivation to do the little homework that remains, the sorrow at burgeoning friendships likely doomed to continue in memory only.

This is not making for an uplifting mood (and the rain rolling in doesn’t help much)…I’m going to go watch one of the Supernatural gag reels or something.

Blogging always seems like a better idea when there are other things to do.
I actually only have one bit of homework left to do for tomorrow, but there are two essays due next Tuesday, two midterms next Thursday and a final on Friday.  Unfortunately, perhaps, I find myself unfazed by these facts.  Everything always gets done, and I haven’t failed anything yet (or even come close, apart from that one D on a French paper Freshman year).

In fact, a nap sounds delightful, but I shall not indulge.  My housemates are going to be watching a movie in an hour, and I shall be social (and likely procrastinatory, as it is highly improbable that said homework will be finished by then).  I am planning on enjoying a toasty mug of cinnamon hot chocolate as well.  And grapes.

One of the four non-school-related books I am currently reading is City of the Mind by Penelope Lively.  Vic often suggests her to be one of the greatest contemporary writers, and I am inclined to agree.  I rather enjoy how she weaves story and plot around an idea she wants to explore.  Whilst in Lyon I read Moon Tiger and was entranced by her language and the insights she offered through the experiences of her characters.  Halfway through CotM, I would recommend her to anyone who is willing to put up a little more effort to delve into a novel.

subject: “Dreams”, Cranberries

Yesterday morning, I had the opportunity listen to Ron Shelton speak about screenwriting.
As a brief contextual background, this weekend is a film festival honoring an English professor of my University who has been teaching here for over 40 years.  He has long loved and been involved in film…working with Ron Shelton on two of his films.  Thus this opportunity.

Apart from his approachability and openness, I thoroughly enjoyed hearing what he had to say about writing and his processes.  While I have not attempted to write a screenplay and am not sure I ever will, across genres, writing remains the stringing together of words to form ideas.  As much as my professors love to remind us (and I need the prodding), I frequently fail at one of the ultimate litmus tests to determine a committed writer: prolificacy.

I know I should write daily.  And it’s a nice idea…but certainly doesn’t happen.  Occasionally I include journaling in the quota of writings and feel better about myself because while my journaling is ridiculously infrequent as well, it is somewhat more regular than my creative, non-academic writing.

One question toward the end of the discussion related to plowing through passages particularly difficult to write.  This was one of those times when I hear the truth scratched into the back of my hand and suddenly realize it’s there.  When you’re stuck, just write through it.  Yes, it will likely be crap and needing of overhauling; however, it will propel you through to the other side where you find surer footing.  Perhaps you will even come to the realization that the segment you just can’t craft into beauty is unnecessary (and what a waste would it have been to spend hours toiling over how to word it when you could have just blurted your thoughts onto the paper in ten minutes).

Of course I don’t think you can apply this to everything.  One said caveat being drafts one must generate for professional or academic purposes.  While my stream of consciousness occasionally/rarely produces things of great profundity or brilliance, 10:30 the night before a three page draft is due does not in fact produce genius.  I can testify it does produce hilarity and unintentional fragments (I shudder at the thought).  At any rate, if Melissa reads the draft, she will be blown out of the water when she sees the final version.  I don’t imagine she will miss the (necessary) absence of my correlating soup and teddy bears (which really does make sense if you follow my train of thought. Promise…).

Limiting myself to three 3 to 4 credit classes this (, my last, ) semester was a good decision.  There is still homework to be done, but it’s not quite as much of a weight on my mind.  This may be also due in part to the fact that apart from Pilates, all classes fall on T/Th (and one discussion group on Wednesday).  Not to say I have all Monday and Friday to slack off; I work at 8 am every morning.  But all this to say, I love having a relaxing Saturday morning slide into afternoon without the slightest bit of guilt at not having touched homework.

This is why I am excited for life after college: the lack of homework hanging over my head.  I am slowly and finally getting around to putting up my postcards from Europe.  While once I collected pencils (which continue to sit in a shoebox, unused, on the shelf in my closet at home), I have since shifted to postcards.  And to commemorate my European Adventure 1.0, I am going to adorn a wall with said “p-cards.”  My dilemma now is how to go about it.  There are also several maps I want to put up, so I’m trying to determine the best way to go about this wallpapering with minimal tacks, tape, or damage to the maps or cards.