Gloom. Black and purple clouds of depression. The heavy weight of doom pressing in the not-so-hot air (lower nineties! yay!). Doubt and self-recrimination lurk like little green goblins under my bed, waiting to grab my ankles and pull me under the the surface of the sea I'm drowning in.
It's the second week of school, and I haven't done anything yet except for Spanish and Art. I am becoming a queen of getting away with doing nothing. I thought I was never bored, but apparently I was wrong. I'm like a car, stalled on a cold morning, grinding my engine down to a brittle nub of blackened metal. I hate grinding and doing nothing, but I can't get jumpstarted.
I haven't done math since June. It's going to be He(ck) when I try to start, so I'm putting it off... and off... and then I'm going to be old and wrinkled and not know how to find x or y. (Actually, I could live with that, but I'm scheduled to take college algebra in the spring semester and I can't let myself be rusty when I start that or He(ck) will take on new and interesting meaning.)
I'm also going to take physics next semester (at home) which means that I need to finish my chemistry book. Which I haven't touched since June. (This sound familiar?) So I need to start over. And I wasn't loving chemistry that much to start with.
Most college application deadlines are in December/January. I don't have a clue which college I want to go to. I need to quickly research a bajillion colleges, most of which I'll never be able to visit, choose some, and start applying.
College is expensive. I'm poor. I plan to get scholarships. But that involves making a resume, finding scholarships I'm eligible for, writing essays for them, sending off more applications, and so on and so forth....
I love to write. I want to write. My characters are weeping in my head, begging me in cracking and hoarse voices to write them before they die. Forever. And every time I sit down at a keyboard, the words that come out- if any words come out at all- stink in a way that make privies seem perfumed. They're lame, they're cliched- they have no life. And my poor characters are slowly withering away inside me and I can't seem to get to them to save them.
And since I'm griping anyway- seminary. Getting up early every day. Going to seminary. Insert the whole teenage 'no one understands me, they don't get me, I don't have any friends'. Which is utter rubbish, of course, but it's that kind of day. Lately, it feels like that kind of life.
And I did warn you.