Thursday, December 13, 2012

Turning Seventeen

Now playing: Type o Negative - Black No.1

It wasn't really an odd day, aside from the mild panic, mild declaration(s) of love (this is misleading. By this, I mean I told two friends who I liked, and in return one of them warned me and the other one revealed her own personal crush), mild embarrassment, mild panic for today's test (finished in 20 minutes, got the stink eye from the professor), mild everything everything everything.

I will graduate at this age. Go find the new world (hopefully), become a more rounded person, try to figure out if I truly have value, read War and Peace, dye my hair purple and pink and red and green and blue, etc.

I should probably learn to speak less but more eloquently. Stop stuttering and mumbling.

I need to be far more focused on my work. I failed horribly at NaNoWriMo, but I have the ability to write more than 30k words a month as long as I'm not going back and rewriting and editing all simultaneously. Ataraxia could be finished before December ends, and I could be editing it while I write Anne's story.

I failed epically at becoming a finalist at YoungArts, but I requested for a ton of books for Christmas*, signed up for American Literature and Creative Writing for my final semester, and that's the way I'm going to get better.

I've got no chance of getting into the University of Chicago, but why don't I just try? It's a couple of bucks down the drain, but I'll get to write a witty essay on the way.

Right now, I hope for Irvine, UF, and FSU. I dream of Los Angeles and the depth of twisted sisterhood.

I'm packing away the 20 years project. A few weeks ago, I wrote a long letter to 37-year-old me, which I am sure I will find boring when I am mature and stuff. I'm putting a couple of objects in there--all which I must keep silent about and force myself to forget so I don't spoil the future surprise--and sealing it tonight.

I'm not sure what my parents are planning to do after my mom picks me up from college, but it seems a celebration is on its way.

Tomorrow I may go out with two friends of mine, because it's about time I start doing things like this.

It's just a birthday, but it's nice to feel so hopeful about things. Turning 17 doesn't really mean anything, but it's an age I never imagined. I've daydreamed about being 13, 15, 16, 18, 19, 21, 25, 30, etc. But never the little ones in between.

^And that's my post. All a stream of consciousness and nothing more because, hey, it's my birthday.

*Christmas list:
  • Neuromancer by William Gibson
  • The Hyperion Cantos by Dan Simmons
  • Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand (might as well try)
  • Ringworld by Larry Niven
  • American Gods by Neil Gaiman (Edit: !!!!!!! AHHH. I got this today after dinner!)
And a couple more I probably forgot.

(War and Peace isn't there because my mom figures I can just get it from the library. Which...yeah, I guess I've already asked for too many gifts).

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"Science and science fiction have done a kind of dance over the last century... The scientists make a finding. It inspires science fiction writers to write about it, and a host of young people read the science fiction and are excited, and inspired to become scientists...which they do, which then feeds again into another generation of science fiction and science..."
- Carl Sagan, in his message to future explorers of Mars.