On becoming a big kid . . . for real.

It's hard.

Personal Statements. Resumes. Curriculum Vitae. Masterpiece (make sure its at least 30 pgs of solid awesome). Assignments I don't know what to write about and decisions I don't know if I'm ready to make

There's a difference between knowing how to do something and actually doing it. I know how to apply for college. I know how to apply for jobs. The struggle comes when I have to sit down with my entire life beside me and somehow spill it onto the paper in words that sound both creative and professional, witty and evocative.

How do you do that? My life is not so interesting, or so they say, or, rather, noone has asked so I have never thought to reflect on it and try to put it into story form. My life has melted away behind me like words on a dry erase board. I'm sure if I turned the dial back to actually look at them they wouldn't be very interesting to begin with.
Dammit, I'm going to have to look anyway, because They want to know. The future is becoming such an arduous thing. I'm starting to think I should just stay right here. Frozen in time. typing my silly little words on this silly little blog.

I know what this is, this is the dreamer in me (the one who has had control all along) throwing a temper tantrum because the artist in me actually wants to make something out of the mush I've accumulated all these years. . . Wow, interesting realization. . . I guess she's ranted herself out.

I need to do some yoga and meditation for real, lack of centralization is making this process harder.