Good morning, darlings!

I actually went to every single one of my classes yesterday, and managed to talk to two out of three professors for the day. That means there's one left, because I already know what I can do for creative writing. I just need to... do it... I guess.

What makes courage meaningful to me? What makes me courageous? I am willing to do what it takes to overcome, and I am willing to take chances. What makes anyone courageous? The power to speak up, to disagree, to agree, to leave, to stay... really, the power to thrive and not just survive. It's easy to drift through life, and I understand that it's necessary sometimes in order to keep living, but when the time comes... who is willing to take the chance and overcome? The warriors.

It takes sacrifice, something I know about quite well. It takes commitment, something I've rarely given a second thought.

I'll write more later.



Alright, a few hours later and that piece of writing is done. Thank goodness, because I must have written at least four drafts, each in a completely different ideal. I think it's beautiful, or at least as beautiful as I can find my own writing, and the first stanza begins with "Lovers are born to suffer." Thanks, Depeche Mode!

I didn't go to my education class, but that's mostly because I am so far behind and was afraid that it would be painfully apparent and shameful. On the other hand, I did go talk to the professor, and she was a total sweetheart and said that if I turn in a 5pg letter to the presidential office concerning improving the school system, I would be in the passing range... as long as I also turn in a recounting of my first semester at UNCA. That should be fun. Either way, it is a huge weight that's now been lifted off of my shoulders. I love, love, love when my educators are so fucking understanding and caring.

In other news, I'm considering dropping teaching as a career goal and being a school counselor instead. Eventually, I might be a private counselor, but that's for later. Although, I would love to go into art therapy--visual as well as written and musical. Wouldn't that just be fantastic? For everyone involved, I hope. I just don't know what I would specialize in. As a school counselor, I would definitely want to be working in high schools. As a private counselor, the more obvious choices would be preteens, teens, and young adults with eating disorders, substance abuse issues, or anything that relates to my other diagnoses or interests. The problem? I think I need a masters for school counseling and probably a doctorate for private counseling, and I am so fucking sick of being a student. It is, of course, comforting since I have spent most of my life in the school system, but it is also really tedious when I feel like I have all of this creative and intellectual energy and potential already capable of being released. My dad put it quite nicely, saying that with me being a Gemini (yes, my father halfheartedly follows astrology), it's basically unfair of society to chain me down to such rigid requirements, and that I thrive in a chaotic routine of creation and intellectual stimulation. It actually makes sense to me. I am highly intelligent. My mother told me that before I had even turned 10, I scored with a 130 IQ. The problem with that? I currently only truly apply myself to doing what I want to do, which excludes math and things that I consider busy work and/or bullshit. What do I care about? Vague stuff. Fun stuff. Meaningful stuff. Rarely is any of it practical. I basically have to force myself to find a career that fits me, when I already feel I have a basic knowledge of what I want to really DO with my life. I want to help people, in any way I may. I want to create my art, whatever it may be. I want to share everything I have to offer with others.

A note on the side, I could never be a social worker. I probably couldn't last a single bad case without curling up into a little ball and crying for days and days. I would be completely useless. Too theoretical, too impassioned, too straightforward. I don't want to have to deal with the bureaucratic bullshit and the horrifying situations. Recently, my mother told me about a kid that was so underweight for his age that he didn't even fucking REGISTER on the growth scale. That's fucking terrifying, and I would want to swoop in and rescue him. I couldn't handle the restrictions. At least as a counselor I can call a social worker to help me out. I mean, come on, that's just sick. I don't know how my mother does it and stays halfway sane.

I can't chop my hair off... I have to work for my grandfather over break. FUCK THAT. I want my mohawk now now now!

I love you, babies.

p.s. telling me I can't do or have something just makes me want to so so so much more.