A Small Package of Prose.

I remind myself that I used to be so much worse. Saturday, Sunday, and now today haven’t been the best days. I’m not feeling all that motivated, but I’m really not feeling that bad. I just simply don’t feel like doing some of my work. I separate that from the rest of my emotional schematics.

How do I feel about myself? Okay, I guess. I caught myself checking myself out in the mirror last night. For all the pictures I take, you’d think I’d bother to look at my muss-kulls. Not… really? I took some “before” pictures for posterity. I was shocked that .. I .. make a visible muss-kull. Maybe I’ll post that later.

I like what I did yesterday, going to a diner by myself. I’ll definite add that to my list of things that make me feel better and calm my brain down.

How do I feel about school? For the moment, a bit disinterested. The drive waxes and wanes. Definitely waning right now. I’m amused at my OS class. So freaking stupid. Yeah, I guess I don’t take it seriously. What am I learning? *shakes head*

I think I know what it’s been. It was Friday. I was in the library, thinking I could start my calc HW. Actually, I thought I’d do random problems in an effort to get the concepts down, THEN start my homework. I happened to pick one which caused me to realize, “Shit. I forgot all my integration rules.” Since then, I’ve been scared to touch it. Discouraged. I knew I could look up what to do in my old calc book. But instead of being rational, I just mentally avoided doing calc. Which means I avoided doing “schoolwork”. Which means I avoided doing anything productive, to avoid the possibility I might finish those things and end up… You get the idea. I know I can avoid the cascade effect by saying to myself, “Well, you can do it later.” I think that’s why Saturday backfired on me. I already had things in my mind that I “wanted” to do, in some fashion.

Strange.

I’ve been considering National Novel Writing Month. (I don’t particularly like the shorthand of it.) I can crank out words. Moreover, I think letting go of perfection and just writing a nice imperfect novel would be good for me. Normally when I write my entries, I have some vague idea of the structure for it. But since I know the general length, I can more or less write whatever comes to mind, and follow my thought patterns to decide upon a logical conclusion. With a novel, I don’t think I could follow that. …Could I? I almost never have a firm conclusion in mind when I’m writing. In that way, my current style could work. To hit the 50K word minimum, you have to crank out 1667 words a day. That’s not a problem. If I wrote in smaller chunks different parts of it, it’s possible I could decide, “Okay, this is what I’m going to write today.” But. Eh. Fiction. Serious fiction brings out my perfectionism. That’s why I tend towards silly fiction.

Could I write a novel of silly fiction? Maybe. The problem there become sustaining the plotline. Unless. I just forget everything I think I know about novels and charge forth into prose. Who says it has to make sense at first? That’s the point of the month-long exercise.

Mind’s a little clearer. Food. Jews. I don’t want to eat when it’s crowded in there. Not sure where to sit. That is, I don’t know when classes end. I miss Rutgers.

As I said, I typically don’t have a conclusion in mind. Look at the openning line. I was going to write about something completely different!