Post by Absinthe on Nov 29, 2007 0:44:04 GMT -6
*This is something that I've been randomly writing and adding to recently. I'm not quite sure what it is. It started out as like a journal entry but has begun to develop into a story of sorts. Anyway, here it is. Suggestions always welcomed*
The Story of a Girl
All my life, people seemed to think I was special in some way. They thought I was smart, driven; that I would go places in life. I used to think that too, but I don't anymore. In grade school, I was always ranked highly in my class. Even in high school, I accomplished above average grades with little or no effort. My first semester of college seemed to fit the same pattern. It wasn't until last semester that my belief that I could easily succeed faded. While I passed all of my courses, it was not with my usual calibur of work. As a matter of fact, it was so far below my usual standard that I lost my scholarship as a result of it. Of course, I was able to reclaim my scholarship with a simple letter of appeal to the committee citing financial hardship and a promise to do better in the future. Only problem is, I haven't been doing better. If anything, I've been doing far worse.
My grades have drastically slipped through nobody's fault by my own. When confronted, I try to blame working too many hours, professors assigning too much homework, a recent death in the family even. While this things have been slightly contributing factors, the main factor is my apathy toward it all. Perhaps apathy isn't the right word. I care about my grades and my future, I do. It's just that caring only gets me so far.
I have a complete lack of motivation when it comes to schoolwork. I just don't want to do it. I find myself often hoping for any excuse to stop school altogether and just get a job and live day to day, moment to moment. I wish I could forget about consequences and possibilities and just live in the here and now. It certainly seems much simpler than it actually is. I have so many hopes and dreams, but I have no push, no drive to achieve them. I sit around doing absolutely nothing productive all day. Even now, writing this is just me putting off over a hundred pages of reading and an essay that was supposed to be finished a week ago.
I suppose if I'm going to waste time, I may as well make it worth it. Perhaps I will tell a story. Yes, that's it - the story of a girl. This girl may or may not be me, but this girl is in love. Let me clarify that. This girl is in unrequited love. Now the question is only where to begin. Well, what better place to stat than the beginning?
There once was a girl who. . . .
No, I don't like that. It has too much of a "once upon a time" feel to it. Okay, let's try this again.
A long time ago, in a small town far, far a-
Star Wars, much? You know what? Forget the beginning. I'm going to start in media res. Fancy, I know. Seems that literary handbook taught me something afterall.
It was just another mediocre morning in her monotonous life. The alarm continued it's obnoxious beep as she tried her best to ignore it and continue to sleep. It was a good thing that her roommate's first class was over an hour earlier because otherwise she'd have most certainly been woken up. The girl's tolerace for the loud beeping had reached its breaking point before she was able to muster enough energy and motivation to throw off the covers and climb out of bed, viciously hitting the off switch on the offending device. She very seriously contemplated crawling back into bed and not bothering with attending classes. She was very close to doing exactly that but decided that she had better just get dressed and get herself to class. She was up already anyway.
Okay, I think we get the picture that she absolutely did not want to get out of bed. Moving forward. . .
She sat through her classes, hoping not to be called on for anything substantial. At least in her American Literature class she could fabricate and answer that sounded like a thought provoking view on the poetic verse of an extremist Puritan. Italian was a different story. She was taking the level one beginners class because she hadn't the slightest idea how to speak the language, not because she was fluent and possessed the ability to answer any question posed to her. The professor seemd to get some sort of perverse joy over watching her squirm and stumble through the simplest "My name is. . ." in Italian. In her personal opinion, Hell must be a rather nice sauna compared to her Italian classroom.
*Okay, well, that's all there is at the moment. It's different than my usual writings in that I think it has a bit of a different voice, I guess. If that even makes any sense. Anyway, as I said, suggestions welcomed - thoughts appreciate. *
The Story of a Girl
All my life, people seemed to think I was special in some way. They thought I was smart, driven; that I would go places in life. I used to think that too, but I don't anymore. In grade school, I was always ranked highly in my class. Even in high school, I accomplished above average grades with little or no effort. My first semester of college seemed to fit the same pattern. It wasn't until last semester that my belief that I could easily succeed faded. While I passed all of my courses, it was not with my usual calibur of work. As a matter of fact, it was so far below my usual standard that I lost my scholarship as a result of it. Of course, I was able to reclaim my scholarship with a simple letter of appeal to the committee citing financial hardship and a promise to do better in the future. Only problem is, I haven't been doing better. If anything, I've been doing far worse.
My grades have drastically slipped through nobody's fault by my own. When confronted, I try to blame working too many hours, professors assigning too much homework, a recent death in the family even. While this things have been slightly contributing factors, the main factor is my apathy toward it all. Perhaps apathy isn't the right word. I care about my grades and my future, I do. It's just that caring only gets me so far.
I have a complete lack of motivation when it comes to schoolwork. I just don't want to do it. I find myself often hoping for any excuse to stop school altogether and just get a job and live day to day, moment to moment. I wish I could forget about consequences and possibilities and just live in the here and now. It certainly seems much simpler than it actually is. I have so many hopes and dreams, but I have no push, no drive to achieve them. I sit around doing absolutely nothing productive all day. Even now, writing this is just me putting off over a hundred pages of reading and an essay that was supposed to be finished a week ago.
I suppose if I'm going to waste time, I may as well make it worth it. Perhaps I will tell a story. Yes, that's it - the story of a girl. This girl may or may not be me, but this girl is in love. Let me clarify that. This girl is in unrequited love. Now the question is only where to begin. Well, what better place to stat than the beginning?
*****
There once was a girl who. . . .
*****
No, I don't like that. It has too much of a "once upon a time" feel to it. Okay, let's try this again.
*****
A long time ago, in a small town far, far a-
*****
Star Wars, much? You know what? Forget the beginning. I'm going to start in media res. Fancy, I know. Seems that literary handbook taught me something afterall.
*****
It was just another mediocre morning in her monotonous life. The alarm continued it's obnoxious beep as she tried her best to ignore it and continue to sleep. It was a good thing that her roommate's first class was over an hour earlier because otherwise she'd have most certainly been woken up. The girl's tolerace for the loud beeping had reached its breaking point before she was able to muster enough energy and motivation to throw off the covers and climb out of bed, viciously hitting the off switch on the offending device. She very seriously contemplated crawling back into bed and not bothering with attending classes. She was very close to doing exactly that but decided that she had better just get dressed and get herself to class. She was up already anyway.
*****
Okay, I think we get the picture that she absolutely did not want to get out of bed. Moving forward. . .
*****
She sat through her classes, hoping not to be called on for anything substantial. At least in her American Literature class she could fabricate and answer that sounded like a thought provoking view on the poetic verse of an extremist Puritan. Italian was a different story. She was taking the level one beginners class because she hadn't the slightest idea how to speak the language, not because she was fluent and possessed the ability to answer any question posed to her. The professor seemd to get some sort of perverse joy over watching her squirm and stumble through the simplest "My name is. . ." in Italian. In her personal opinion, Hell must be a rather nice sauna compared to her Italian classroom.
*Okay, well, that's all there is at the moment. It's different than my usual writings in that I think it has a bit of a different voice, I guess. If that even makes any sense. Anyway, as I said, suggestions welcomed - thoughts appreciate. *
I like it! and now I am going to be singing this is the story of a girl who cried a river and drowned the whole world all night. 
