big deal (ehh it's whatev)

maybe i'm one of those lucky people who is content with the speed of days and weeks and months. if days go faster, my brain would possibly explode. if days go slower, my brain would definitely implode.
so i can't complain about the pace of my life. it seems steady enough, and i don't feel that days go too fast or too slow...well, until i have umteen billion papers or poems or stories or narratives or blackboard posts due. i don't seem to be completely worked up about school--i mean it has to take up a lot of time, but i'm glad it does. i'm glad for my midnight munchies that often occur at 2am... not the regular munchies. i shall call them... inking. sometimes i can't go to sleep unless i've pulled an idea or even a word from the emergency flashbulb of my brain...the bright orange and blue and red one that goes "Hey!" (flash) "Write me!" (flash) "I'm important!" (flash) "I have a resolution for your story!" (flash)

it's probably boring that i write about writing a lot. but it's such a process... it's just a way of life for me at the moment. i have passed on hanging out with friends so i can get a story out of my head that, in stead of my projected short burst word-vomit", lasted hours.

i wish i could write the resolution to my own life sometimes. i wish that my own caricature would start alleviating her own stress, therefore causing the growing mountain range on her chin to simply disappear. this character would also become more vibraint-looking, getting rid of the purple smudgy swipes under her eyes, and would simply smash her phone into black plastic chips of oblivion and screw you!'s.

this character would allow her nails--and the skin around them--to grow past the quick. This character would stop writing notes on her hand, because she would actually check her calendar every day and write in the planner that sits in her backpack, stuck in mid-October.

this character would submit her work to publishers and contests out of self-confidence. she would throw her "what if's" and self-doubt into the speckled toilet and watch it swirl gracefully and dizzily through the hole, where all the other poo in her life had been disposed.

this character would be impatient for next year, anticipating the growing and changing and relief she will experience.
i AM under anticipation, but it's calm and overpowered by questions of who i am, where i've ACTUALLY come from verses where i used to think i come from. questions of friends, questions of why i'm satisfied with continuously rescheduling my dentist appointment, questions of why i feel much more comfortable in a messy room than a clean one, questions of why i'd rather type on a blog than complete my assignments, questions of why i don't seem to care about my jiggly cottage-cheese thighs or my funny spare tire i've seemed to inherited in the last couple of years.
big deal.