ings

regrettably, I have not written as much as I would ideally like. At times when i wake up in the morning all I can think about is writing, but for some strange reason I treat the impulse as a mosquito instead of a good desire. I guess i think more about writing than i actually write, which is the great difference between me--on and off, hot and cold--and a flourishing, successful novelist. Sometimes I think that writing would be my ideal dream job...if only i could find something to write about...something other than myself. Even my latest "novel" is based on random high school experiences...things that I really want to get down on paper, but things that I wish I had created in my own imagination.

I think I might give J53--Newswriting--a whirl this semester. Most people complain about the workload, but I figure if I treat the class as I would a hobby, it might become something enjoyable. There's something weird about the 'scholastic' psychology that makes me hate work when I have to do it.

Writing has a particular, specialized function in my life. Some people use it as a therapy, a means to bolster their self-esteem and justify their actions. )I have dabbled in this, but it only leaves a deeper hole). Some people use it to communicate--journalists, teachers, lovers, but I don't really care about who reads my writing. Some people use it to make sense of the world...they write things down and work with it until it makes sense and the world makes sense and their realizations come to life. Intellectuals, experts, philosophers. And some people write just because they're bored with the world and would rather create their own world. I might be straddling the latter two, partiallly, but I think I use writing as a primary means to understand my own psychology. I write when I discover things about myself and the world--physical and spiritual-- and how I relate to it

On a completely different note, When a Man Loves a Woman is my new favorite movie.

I laughed a lot today. I don't think I've laughed this much in at least a year. I'd like to think that I was always the one to make my big sister laugh when i was little, but I think that nowadays she makes me laugh more. Maybe it's just the bizarre chemistry between us when we reminisce over childhoods oddities...we share a history and our quirkiness and wonderful sense of humor comes out more when we're together. at any rate, it was good tonight. Colleen's joeie de vivre is golden bright and fills the house when she's making dinner and chatting and even playing the harp. At any rate, it's good to laugh.