I will be attending college for two classes this upcoming winter semester. The experience of applying made me feel modern and accomplished. I walked in with raw nerves, and questions I thought difficult were brushed away at the welcome desk with easy answers. I know I was nervous, because when I was filling out my application, my heart was pounding a pulse that caused a little tremble in my finger tips. "Oh great," I thought , "I have to tell them I'm a home schooler, and my swaying, illegible penmanship will vouch for it." I pushed through...passing over the "student seeking a degree" option, checking instead the "personal interests" box, and came out holding a student number.
Confidence was bouncing in my heart, like the very large breasts of your robust southern maid when she hurriedly dusts the mantle. I had transformed in that last half hour, I'd become a college student...Intelligent, independent, a growing spectacle in the public eye...Never before have I felt so sexy.
And so I climbed back into my parents mini van, drove off, lost myself for five minutes downtown Grand Rapids, weaving my way through diverse neighborhoods...There was a lot of construction.

Driving home, I was alert and will admit that I was listening to Bright Eyes, finding enlightenment in the writings of Connor Oberst. I think his lyrics are sort of clever in a blind man groping the wall sort of way. The little things strike me...Stuff like this...

I was a camera
Until I went blind

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I have my drugs, I have my woman
They keep away my loneliness
My parents have they have their religion
But sleep in separate houses
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And there’s kids playing guns in the street
And ones pointing his tree branch at me
So I put my hands up I say “enough is enough,
If you walk away, I’ll walk away”
And he shot me dead
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Some of it made me sad...as it should, the man makes something like one drug reference in every song, which is evidence of his inability to process and come out on top of his thoughts. But, he has discovered perspective, and that's all writing really is. A person's collection of observations. I learned this in Bird by Bird (anne lamott), and since have had more confidence in ever writing a piece of fiction myself.

I told my mom about a growing book idea I have. I don't share these most of the time, because I tend to summerize verbally the going ons of my head...which reduces it, and will dull any listener to death...but I did okay tonight. It will be a book dedicated to my friend Elena...and will basically be the story of a girls dating life, from the getting to know you stages, to the date that ruined it all...probably four or five different tellings...you can ask me about my mind behind it if you care...but I really just want to tell you that my mom loved the idea, but insisted that I would need experience to base the stories on. I told her that I had it...in my unconcious, that I had enough emotion from one "almost was" relationship to make ten stories...and that there was a purpose, to me enjoying the social isolation, being quiet sometimes brings. I can be inspired on the experiences I see happening around me. Yeah...yeah...that's good.

Coming to a close, I must say, that today was an inspiring day.