Writing Every Day

After my Lenten goal to write every day was so successful, I promptly dropped the "write every day" goal and lapsed into laziness, May Term, and summer vacation. Naturally, now that I'm back at school and procrastination is necessitated by the existence of homework, I'm bringing back my goal to actually write every day. And I am proud to say that I have written every day for 11 days now. Which I would say was a record, but that would be a downright lie since Lent is 40 days. Not including Sundays. I think.

Anyway, in writing every day again, my calendar is pleasantly populated by happy little orange x's on the days that I write, and my notebook has stopped complaining that it's gathering dust. I personally think that such a complaint is unfounded merely because I consistently find myself moving my notebook from one side of the bookshelf to the other if only to keep it from staring at me. Because I worry about these things.

And now instead of reading about Shakespeare's historical context, I'm typing on a blog that I really only use to blabber to myself about randomness since there's very little point in anyone else reading it. Mostly because it may not make sense to anyone who either considers themselves sane or don't know me. So apparently blabbering about my own blabber is totally acceptable.
Since I'm the only one who reads this blog anyway. :^P

Transition

Transition and I are not friends.
Back in elementary school, I used to cry before going into the new school year because I would be in a different grade with a different teacher, and some different friends. I'm pretty sure I did the same thing when I went from elementary school to middle school, a transition that only I and a couple of my friends from elementary school were doing because we would otherwise have gone through 8th grade at our former school. If that makes any sense.
And it would follow that I did the same thing or similar when I went from 8th grade to high school. Though I don't remember.

I don't remember crying before going off to college. I remember being worried, and I remember fretting over every tiny detail of my packing well in advance. That was probably the most prepared I was before leaving for a year of college. I cried once I got there, but that was homesickness, and it only came at night. Or when I was alone.
I haven't cried yet this year, but I have begun to experience a certain lack of motivation. This is my third time going off to college, and the first year I'm starting off as an RA instead of a Staff Alternate. So of course there are differences. But Transition and I are not friends, so I've hit a wall in my packing and I don't really feel like reading the summer reading book that I'm supposed to so I can talk to my freshmen about it.
I want to go, but I don't want to prepare for it. I would rather take off with whatever I had with me at the time and send for the rest of my things.
But maybe that's my lack of motivation talking.

Two-ish weeks

It has occurred to me that my leaving for the school year is inevitable. And imminent. And all those other words that mean "looming on the horizon like a gigantic blimp that looks like it's about to fall out of the sky any second now." The more I begin to realize that I'm going back to school very soon, the more I begin to realize that I haven't packed yet, even though the majority of my things I just didn't unpack to begin with. Which is rather irritating when you're looking for your toothbrush and you remember, "Oh wait, it's somewhere buried amongst my books, towels and dry erase markers."
I think it goes without saying that that experience is horribly inconvenient.
All the same, I really want to go back to school, which in and of itself is strange. The concept of wanting to go back and study is just so weird. Then again, there is the prospect of meeting new people and making friends, and all that wonderfulness that comes with a new year.
And then my presidential duties.
I've been trying to forget that I'm the president of my school's Residence Hall Association, but the panic, fear and nerves keep creeping up into my consciousness. Another terrible inconvenience.

And I only have about two weeks.
Frightening.

Organization

Today is a rare type of day in my life, being a day of organization. I have my very own method of organization that involves making piles of things and sifting through them every now and again in order to pretend that I'm "cleaning" my room. Today's organization required that I go through all of my writing and sort through it. Now, I've kept everything I've ever written ever since my first creative writing class in 3rd grade. At least, around then. I can tell because of the evolution of my handwriting throughout my writing collection.
So you can imagine the sheer bulk of papers that I have in my possession.
Today I will finally be retiring my old blue and sticker-covered one inch binder in favor of a file boxy thing that I just got from Target. It's magical, I'll tell you that much.
The problem is that I don't really organize things. So I've been spreading out all my writing, making random and separate piles that would probably only make sense to me, which is how I'd like to keep it. It's weird to see all my writing spread out like this though, and it makes me wonder if I'll ever use that little blurb I wrote about a girl riding a horse in 4th grade. And it's enough paper to make me regret that our family doesn't recycle paper. Heh heh.

Organizing is what you do before you do something, so that when you do it, it's not all mixed up.--A.A. Milne

Supreme Empress of the World

In 7th grade, I decided that I would be Supreme Empress of the World. In 8th grade, I wrote this as part of my "Supreme Empress of the World website".

A Brief History of the Supreme Empress and Her Rise to Power

When I was born, I was given the name "Supreme." My last name was "Empress." I was always a very bright child. In kindergarten, when everyone was finger-painting, I was painting with brushes an exact replica of Monet's "Water Lilies."

In second grade, we did a play on Johnny Appleseed. I was the star of the show. I was the bird. I stole the show when I flew on stage with my lovely blue feathered wings. Johnny didn't have a chance.

In fourth grade, I was in a guitar recital. I played "Happy Birthday." My guitar was the loudest and the most clear out of the whole entire class. I was the only one who didn't even make one mistake.

In sixth grade, I was in the school play called "Annie Jr." I was the most fun character in the play. I was Lily St. Regis. Do not forget that I had a great accent and I even added a line to make the play more interesting. I sang and danced my heart out and was the best villain.

In seventh grade, I found that my true calling was to be Ruler of the World. I decided who would own what, and what would happen to the world when I died. Then it happened. On my way to P.E. on the faithful Wednesday afternoon, I just took over the World. Just like that! It was magical!

Note: Keep in mind that this history is based on fact and that these events happened in some truth and this is a BRIEF history.