Also…

I’m thinking about studying abroad after undergrad (perhaps during) in Australia. Thoughts anyone? Especially those of you in/from Australia?

I’ve got a Prologue!

Writing of my novel has been slow. By slow, I mean I started actually typing earlier tonight, and have a prologue and a very good outline to show for it.  I really can’t wait to get into the meat of this thing. I’ve never felt such a promising idea pop into and out of my head. Granted, I do not have faith in this story to stay out of the commercial fiction realm, but if that’s what happens, so be it.

At least I’d make some money.

Make sure I continue posting on here about what and how much I’ve written because it’ll keep me writing. I know I don’t have much yet, but my outline is so good it really is a matter of putting pretty things on it and making a few more complete sentences. Anyway, hold me accountable, guys!

Loves.

Nervosity

I’m nervous to start writing this thing. It’s a monster. (Aren’t all novels?)

Most of the time, Daniel time is what I want

But there are times that I really look forward to my alone time. Tonight, I’m going to have both alone time and girl time with Anna. I’ll probably even go to Dinner with Lauren and whoever, if that happens after class. And to top it all off, I get to see Daniel at the end of the day (2 a.m.) when he gets off work. Rather perfect day.

Also, I get to retake my Spanish test. Woo.

Oh, I forgot

I have a job interview tonight, that if successful, will land me a job that pays $8.50-$8.75 an hour. My only concern is not getting very many hours, but with that kind of pay, I’m not too concerned. I’m not the one who has to meet rent every month. I’m just the one who buys the presents for the one who has to meet rent every month.

Once upon a time…

I told a friend that I’ve started a novel. He asked if he was in it. I said yes. I bet that’s not something you hear everyday. That someone put you in a novel.

Speaking of novels, Daniel doesn’t much like them. He often says things that boil down to “Books are useless and stupid”. He says he finds more worth in things that can be reused, (don’t get me started on the lifetime of joy a book brings) and it makes my brain hurt so much I can’t even think of the other points he had.  The only thing that keeps going through my head is that even the biggest asshole in the world who was my last boyfriend didn’t bother me about loving books though he did not. Every now and then he gently teased me when someone asked about a book and I was the only one who had heard of or read it.

I’d like to think that he was more hurt that I spent money on books yesterday when we don’t have much money (though our money is still separate, don’t worry guys, we’re not married yet) or that he would love or at least like books if he didn’t have dyslexia. But to be honest, I have no idea how much of what he says is joking (he says a lot of it is) and what is serious.

How can someone not love books?

And what will happen when I start publishing them?

There is something oddly satisfying yet anxiety ridden…

about thinking of what I want to do after undergraduate study. I’m thinking about attending graduate school in another country. If not that, then I certainly want to live in another country for no less than a year. I will probably have to compromise and spend a year in one place and a year in Japan.

Either way, after that… law school. Oh noes.

I should be in the X Games with how much I flip

I remember a blurry time, not incredibly long ago when I would have done anything to be one of those kids who knew how to let loose and have some fun. I spent too much time on my homework; my notes were the most sought after. I relished in my good grades and my good kid reputation. I didn’t really like being mean to people, but there isn’t much you can do when you’re a nerd in a regular high school.

Then the Academy happened, and I became much more loose. I enjoyed time with friends, I read less, I opened myself to the world, and somewhere in the process, a lot of that self-discipline and faith in myself escaped.

For a while, it wasn’t so bad. My discipline just shifted. I lost some weight all on my own for the first time in my life. I had a very strict diet that allowed for variation only in occasional treats. I didn’t overdo the diet thing. I was more concerned with being healthy than I was with losing weight. That was just an added benefit of eating better. I felt good. I looked good. I had goals.

Then I started easing up on myself. There were too many instances of “I deserve a break”, and eventually, I rarely made a good choice. My schoolwork got better the next semester, as my focus shifted again. Then came senior year.

Senior year, my focus was on the dumbest thing: romance. I guess I should rephrase. Romance and love may not be the dumbest thing, (I certainly don’t think it is) but the mistake was in who I was with. I sometimes feel like banging my head against the wall for that. (Everyone who knows the both of us, quit laughing. Right now.)

So let’s just forget that part and just continue our talk about the deterioration of Valeri. Not only did I not take care of myself physically, I saw fewer and fewer reasons to put much effort into it. The last two boyfriends I had had liked me how I was. I wasn’t playing soccer anymore, so I had little reason to stay in great shape. Lots of old injuries didn’t help motivate me. And last but not least, that mystery illness that had me in bed at least one day a week.

Next summer, I made resolutions, and I made a little progress, but not much. I felt better, living on my own, but I was bored out of my mind.

Then came last semester.

Last semester I lost all control.

Let’s just say that I found myself wishing, this semester, that I had that Valeri from freshman and sophomore year back. The hardworking, tough girl who owned the world. I finally have to grow up, guys. I have to put all this together like I never learned how, and find a way to start living like a responsible and self-reliant person.

I told Daniel that we had to spend a little more time apart. I don’t think he really likes this idea, and to be honest, neither do I. I gotta do the right thing though, if I’m ever going to be successful. I just wish it didn’t feel like I was turning myself into a boring, uptight woman.

He writes me poems

but you can’t read them.

not only does he write them for me, but he writes them in calligraphy on nice paper.

i hang them up in my room to see them all the time, and they are the best love letters i’ve ever read.

I am going through a language slump

Linguists say that when learning a language (native or foreign) each individual goes through periods where their knowledge and comprehension increases dramatically, as well as periods that are either very slow, or are plateaued.

I am going through something unrelated to this. (I just thought I’d mention it, in case anyone else out there gets frustrated at the plateaus.)

I am going through something more like a barrier. Not that I cannot learn the language. I am doing a very good job with that. It’s more that once I get into Spanish (in class, or after twenty minutes or so of doing homework), it is very hard to get out.

This is a good thing, I know. People (especially those who begin a foreign language sometime after childhood) often have trouble really immersing themselves into a language to the point where they are not just reading, writing and speaking in said language, but thinking in it.

This I have been doing for a few years now, with greater and greater ease as time goes on. But I appear to be stuck. It takes a while to get into the language (ten minutes or so hearing it… so I guess not that long) and the same amount of time to get out.

The next step is being able to fluidly move between the two, with possible occasional confusion. (This is the second time this step happens. When first beginning a language, this step is also natural.)

And though I’d gladly take this possibly occasionally confused state rather than the one I’m in, I’d really like to skip ahead and be fluid in both.

Note: I said fluid, not fluent. No matter how talented I am with languages, I won’t be fluent until I immerse myself in both culture and language.

Now that I’ve bored you to bits about linguistics and language learning…

Repeat after me:

“Grrrrrr!”

What’ve I done?!

Chill, it’s not that bad. I’ve just decided to make my second major English with a concentration in Creative Writing (my first being Political Science). I see this as a good thing, but also a scary thing, considering I’m not so talented a writer. Nor am I a frequent writer (this blog is as frequent as I get… last time I worked on a piece of fiction was this summer and it was abandoned), so how exactly am I going to make this transition?

I’ve decided that as I have no writing classes this semester, I am going to choose the day before my busiest day of the week, Monday, and spend at least two hours writing.

Hopefully I’ll find more time in the week and build on this all semester until I get into a good schedule.

Also, I think I may have to drop my credit hours down from 15 to 12 ( just enough to be a full-time student). I think this because I really need a job, and having two days a week to work would be wonderful. Also, Tuesdays and Thursdays, I only have Drawing, and I foresee this class being worse for my GPA than better.

I shall see what I can do tomorrow when I meet with my advisor. She’s a scary lady.

I wrote my father a letter.

Those of you who know me, either know that I rarely, rarely speak to my father, or you simply know nothing about him. Don’t feel bad about the second, there just isn’t that much to say about him.

To keep it short, he was abusive to my mother and not a very good father. He left Indiana for Florida when I was pretty young, and we didn’t hear from him for a long time. My older sister and I both avoid talking to him as much as we can, and my younger sister is starting to do the same. Even my little brother is starting to. (My other younger sister does not share my father’s DNA.)

Anyway, the man sent me $100.00 for Christmas, and as it was desperately needed, I figured a thank you note was in store. I decided, before I started writing, that I would go ahead and write him a letter highlighting the main stuff going on in my life. I mentioned Daniel, and how wonderful he is. I wouldn’t even be that unhappy introducing him to that side of the family that I hate so much.

Anyway, I don’t really feel anything, having done this,  and I don’t know how I feel about that.

I don’t know what will happen from here on out, but I do imagine some kind of trouble for me if he ever tells my mom I’ve written him. She’ll be pissed. Not because I can’t write him, but because she’ll feel betrayed or some crap like that.

But I’ll tell you one thing, I definitely would prefer snail mail correspondance with the man over anything else.

Crap. I forgot his birthday was a couple days ago. Guess I gotta PS that thing and re-envelope.