Sitting in the Union reading A Widow’s Story and listening to Samson by Regina Spektor. It’s like I’m challenging myself to not cry in public or something.

When I read books I like to mark them up, make them my own. Highlight all the parts that make me smile, cry. The ones that make my chest hurt and my stomach roll. Even on my Nook, I color all over the pages. There’s something about a physical book and bending the pages back, but there’s something about carrying 90 books in my bag without a problem, too.

Side note: I’m delving into Joyce Carol Oate’s ‘A Widow’s Story’ and its the most therapeutic book I’ve ever read. Any sort of situation in life that gives you grief could be remedied by this book. She writes about the loss of her husband of over forty years and I have cried almost every damn page of it. I’m a crier, but the most stoic asshole couldn’t be touched by her writing, it’s so raw and open. It blows my mind that her husband, Ray, died five years ago. To write about something that profound takes a certain degree of being removed from the situation. It’s worth the 460+ pages. Read it.

At the start of this semester, I gave Kent a responsibility. When I started getting into my Creative Writing classes and I inevitably fell in love, he had to shake me and tell me it isn’t practical. Because, well, it’s not. At the end of the day, I want a family. I want to be able to provide for myself and my family, I don’t forsee being an English teacher bringing me the stability I want. Sometimes I feel gross, being 20 and thinking like this. Shouldn’t I be blind and inspired? Maybe my mind doesn’t work that way. Maybe that’s a good thing.

But, I am thinking about it. I leave my writing classes and think about my life behind a desk pouring out all my characters that dwell inside me. Then I tell myself I can write when I’m done with my daily tasks and whatnot. I feel best when I write, in tune with myself. Maybe I’m scared more than anything, of a life where I loose sight of myself.

It seems like more of a reality with every semester that passes, my major is limited access and my GPA just isn’t competitive enough to get me into it, so I’m stonewalled. I can’t take any classes toward my major until I’m accepted and I refuse to waste my time and money, so I could choose another major or transfer somewhere where PR isn’t so damn hard to get into (UF).

Hmpf. That’s all for now.