One Down...Many to Go

Today was my last day of classes. I had two finals to do for English and Algebra and BAM! I'm done. It's an odd sensation finishing a semester of College after being away from school for eight years. I feel somewhat accomplished. Even though I've only done two classes, I feel I did fairly well in them and look forward to my next semester.

I'm sitting here before work, trying to do some writing and felt I should hop on to leave a quick note, as I am trying to make sure I have a post on here at LEAST every few days. At some point, I will manage to dedicate myself to writing daily. This is good, though, as it's stimulating whatever section of my brain it is that is involved in writing. The blog is helping me to focus a bit, to learn to shut out outside stimuli and dedicate myself to finishing a task.

It's all about baby steps.

Of Idle Hands Ready to Turn Soil....and of Mothers.

Oops.

Looks like I'm not doing a very good job of writing every day! I'll have to try to buckle down with a bit more determination to make this happen.

I'm finishing school up Wednesday. I'm anxious to have this first step in my scholastic career all tied up. I've recently decided on a more fruitful major to pursue, so next semester I'll be changing my major from Liberal Studies to Communications with a focus in English. The goal is to find employment as an editor. Plus, a communications degree is pretty broad, allowing you to get work in almost any business.

In other news, today was Mother's Day. I managed to squeeze in a short call to mom to let her know that I love her. I'm glad her and Papa are home from New Mexico. It makes me really happy that they spend their winters out there together, but it's nice when they come home. I miss them a lot. Coming from such a tightly knit family, especially with parents as supportive as mine, it's tough to have to go six months without them.

So, I would like to spend a moment to celebrate one of the most important women in my life. Mom is one of the most fascinating ladies I know. She's incredibly smart. She's the reason I have the strong artistic streak that I have. I remember her sitting at my bed side and either telling me stories or singing songs to me:

Down in Old Kentucky
Where the Horshoes are lucky
There's a little Smithy standing under the chestnut tree...


I know my siblings will remember that.

She's a brilliant homemaker and now that Papa and her work more closely together on their business endeavors, their home seems somehow much more complete. They're quite a unit.

I love you, Mom.

Purposes.

My mother always told me that if I wanted to be a really great writer, I would need to write everyday. Over the years, I've tried to take her advice, but have often found myself struggling to get words down on paper. I attribute most of this to my current dislike for outlines, something I hope to change in the near future, but also I tend to box myself in on a specific style of writing and when the inspiration isn't there, I simply walk away.

So here is my first attempt at solving this problem. The inspiration for this blog came from my English 101 class in college. As I've always fancied myself a writer of fiction, I never spent much time simply writing about the ins and outs of my everyday, my past, and my future. Of course, English 101 is not a class for writing fiction. It's a technical class based around making sure you understand proper grammar, punctuation and the sort. My professor was clear in stating that our papers were to be written about things we knew a lot about. This wasn't a time to conjure up alternate realities.

Initially this drove me nuts. I struggled with the papers in the beginning, and the professors tough grading discouraged me even more as I saw -- written in that red ink that only teachers use when showing you your short-comings -- grades at the tops of my papers ranging anywhere from 65-73. I wasn't going to be able to pass my glass with these sorts of marks, but more than that, my pride as someone who had written since childhood and had been told on more than one occassion that I could be a great writer, was being crushed.

Steadily, my grades began to climb. I was doing well on my tests and soon the grades on my papers began to reflect my understanding of the things I was doing wrong. Excited as I was at my scholastic achievements, I became even more excited that I was learning new ways to write. My papers often involved childhood stories, which brought tears to my eyes several times while writing them.

So here I am, ready to give a long-standing medium a try. I'm in hopes that this will stimulate my creative mind and open it to a wider range of thoughts for my fictional endeavors.