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Courtesy of snarkout_rat
Oct. 22nd, 2007 07:16 pm20 years ago, I... was in 4th grade. I was in love with a boy I'd been hanging out with since 2nd grade, the boy who really solidified my love for wrestling, and jealous that even though I was his loyal friend, he took a girl who I viewed as a nemesis as his girlfriend, whatever that meant at that age. I was at a new school since my previous school was only K-3. We had a thing called Freaky Friday, obviously every Friday, where we rotated through each of the four fourth-grade classrooms for activities fitting a particular theme. This was also around the time I noticed girls starting to get bitchy, and the templates for later cliques emerged.
15 years ago, I... was a freshmen in high school, and overly hopeful that I'd emerge from my quiet, nerdy shell. There were two friends from my grade school days still in my life, but everyone else I made friends with were entirely new, and even though I didn't achieve the rampant popularity I desired, I was happy that anyone considered me friend-worthy. I attended my first concert when Morton won a radio competition that brought Sir Mix-A-Lot and Saigon Kick to our field house. I also got involved with a couple of extracurricular activities, having been told that this would help me get into the top colleges. I was in a weird mental place, wanting to be more social, but also wanting to do well enough to earn the scholarships I was told I deserved, and I wasn't sure how to reconcile those two desires.
10 years ago, I...was enrolled in my first semester at Columbia College. This caused quite a stir amongst some of my relatives, who felt that I was wasting my talents transferring from Marquette University to an institution that put more emphasis on art rather than academics. My mom was supportive though, and even though I would have preferred living on a campus rather than commuting, I felt a lot more at home in Columbia's nontraditional environment. This was also the point where I quit my slacker job at the video store, and opted for an on-campus position as a student assistant at the circulation desk of the school's library. I was studying film, totally convinced I could follow in Tarantino and Kevin Smith's footsteps and become a clerk turned successful screenwriter.
5 years ago, I...was in my second year of graduate school. By now I had switched my interest from screenwriting to creative writing, primarily short stories, essays, and a novel that has since been abandoned. I was a little over six months into my academic office girl job, and feeling the strain of juggling a full-time workload and two classes. Consequently, writing started to become a drag, especially when I tried to force a story that needed a helluva lot more plot and character development. I kept expecting the scenes to emerge fully formed, not realizing that the writing process is not always magical and organic.
3 years ago, I...was enrolled in the last writing workshop I needed to fulfill my coursework requirements. My instructor was an Irish writer who was amazingly motivating, and who encouraged me to develop my second novel attempt. It was a welcome escape in the middle of my workday, especially since I was feeling overworked and underappreciated in my academic admin job. I didn't know how to express this though, since I had always been taught to just deal with whatever challenges I faced and not complain about it. I didn't realize that I should have spoken up and admitted that I was taking on tasks far above and beyond my call of duty. This was also a period when M and I were at the height of our obsession with going to indie wrestling shows. And I think this was when my freelance journalism career started to pick up.
1 year ago, I...was three days in to my second residency at Writer's Colony at Dairy Hollow. My only concerns were reading, working on my novel, and arriving back at the main house every evening in time to enjoy delicious, home-cooked dinners. I took long walks through downtown Eureka, admired the brilliant fall colors, and puzzled over the tourist appeal of this monstrosity: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christ_of_the_Ozarks.
This year so far, I...bought a one-bedroom condo, teamed up with M to purge a majority of our collective possessions in order to live somewhat clutter-free, visited Las Vegas for the first time, played Maid of Honor in my best friend's wedding, cut back on the freelance work to focus in on my novel, got hired at the best damn full-time job ever, questioned my passion for wrestling, indulged in comic book geekery at Wizard World Philadelphia and Chicago, renewed my love for live music with a road trip to Summerfest and later on in the year a Frames show, realized I still love wrestling and just need to avoid reading message boards, and recommitted myself to developing my storytelling talents.
Yesterday, I...spent the day processing my experience at Saturday's writing workshop with Rosemary Daniell, and finishing I Am Legend by Richard Matheson.
Today, I...spent the day doing routine work, prepping for the arrival of our graduate assistant, and typing up my first inklings of chapter four.
Tomorrow, I....want to continue my streak of writing in my physical journal, both journally-type stuff and novel work.
15 years ago, I... was a freshmen in high school, and overly hopeful that I'd emerge from my quiet, nerdy shell. There were two friends from my grade school days still in my life, but everyone else I made friends with were entirely new, and even though I didn't achieve the rampant popularity I desired, I was happy that anyone considered me friend-worthy. I attended my first concert when Morton won a radio competition that brought Sir Mix-A-Lot and Saigon Kick to our field house. I also got involved with a couple of extracurricular activities, having been told that this would help me get into the top colleges. I was in a weird mental place, wanting to be more social, but also wanting to do well enough to earn the scholarships I was told I deserved, and I wasn't sure how to reconcile those two desires.
10 years ago, I...was enrolled in my first semester at Columbia College. This caused quite a stir amongst some of my relatives, who felt that I was wasting my talents transferring from Marquette University to an institution that put more emphasis on art rather than academics. My mom was supportive though, and even though I would have preferred living on a campus rather than commuting, I felt a lot more at home in Columbia's nontraditional environment. This was also the point where I quit my slacker job at the video store, and opted for an on-campus position as a student assistant at the circulation desk of the school's library. I was studying film, totally convinced I could follow in Tarantino and Kevin Smith's footsteps and become a clerk turned successful screenwriter.
5 years ago, I...was in my second year of graduate school. By now I had switched my interest from screenwriting to creative writing, primarily short stories, essays, and a novel that has since been abandoned. I was a little over six months into my academic office girl job, and feeling the strain of juggling a full-time workload and two classes. Consequently, writing started to become a drag, especially when I tried to force a story that needed a helluva lot more plot and character development. I kept expecting the scenes to emerge fully formed, not realizing that the writing process is not always magical and organic.
3 years ago, I...was enrolled in the last writing workshop I needed to fulfill my coursework requirements. My instructor was an Irish writer who was amazingly motivating, and who encouraged me to develop my second novel attempt. It was a welcome escape in the middle of my workday, especially since I was feeling overworked and underappreciated in my academic admin job. I didn't know how to express this though, since I had always been taught to just deal with whatever challenges I faced and not complain about it. I didn't realize that I should have spoken up and admitted that I was taking on tasks far above and beyond my call of duty. This was also a period when M and I were at the height of our obsession with going to indie wrestling shows. And I think this was when my freelance journalism career started to pick up.
1 year ago, I...was three days in to my second residency at Writer's Colony at Dairy Hollow. My only concerns were reading, working on my novel, and arriving back at the main house every evening in time to enjoy delicious, home-cooked dinners. I took long walks through downtown Eureka, admired the brilliant fall colors, and puzzled over the tourist appeal of this monstrosity: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christ_of_the_Ozarks.
This year so far, I...bought a one-bedroom condo, teamed up with M to purge a majority of our collective possessions in order to live somewhat clutter-free, visited Las Vegas for the first time, played Maid of Honor in my best friend's wedding, cut back on the freelance work to focus in on my novel, got hired at the best damn full-time job ever, questioned my passion for wrestling, indulged in comic book geekery at Wizard World Philadelphia and Chicago, renewed my love for live music with a road trip to Summerfest and later on in the year a Frames show, realized I still love wrestling and just need to avoid reading message boards, and recommitted myself to developing my storytelling talents.
Yesterday, I...spent the day processing my experience at Saturday's writing workshop with Rosemary Daniell, and finishing I Am Legend by Richard Matheson.
Today, I...spent the day doing routine work, prepping for the arrival of our graduate assistant, and typing up my first inklings of chapter four.
Tomorrow, I....want to continue my streak of writing in my physical journal, both journally-type stuff and novel work.
