I want to write more than anything. My heart is yearning to do so and my brain won’t stop telling me to get up and form words into sentences. More than likely it’s because it has been some time, a good chunk in fact, that I haven’t written. It appears that once school was over my brain shut down entirely and has only recently rebooted, which is s good thing considering the new semester starts a week from Monday. 

This will be the semester that I actually take a journalism course. Up until this point it’s been random classes that fit my set schedule. They were great and I did enjoy them, but they weren’t why I am re-attempting college. 

I still can’t get over the fact that my major is journalism. The memories of me saying “absolutely not” to the subject are still very vivid in my mind. In high school I had no interest in telling, what I called reality, “the truth.” I preferred to live in fictitious places and stories with my own characters for company. (Not that that is no longer the case, by the way.) What collegiate goals I had in high school were English or theatre, two of the most worthless degrees in the modern world. It is a terrible and cold to say such a thing but it is true. My husband has beat that into my skull and I can’t forget that unless I plan on teaching those particular subjects they really serve no greater purpose to the world at large. Truthfully, the same could be said about journalism. 

My husband is more than obsessed with money. Another word should be created just to describe his craving and desire for cash. Although it isn’t just small amounts of the green backs. Oh no. It is wealth. Opulence. He wants to be his father. The man, my father-in-law, is hard working for sure, but a giant douchebag. He has no interest in sharing his “wealth.” And I say it in quotes because I think most of it is exaggerated in his telling. As my husbands dad likes to say, “don’t let facts get in the way of a good story.” It is this man and his money that has my husband bewitched, for lack of a better word. At one point my husband was proud of me for going back to school (and he still is) but now he’s repeated, on a few occasions now, that journalists don’t make much money. He got that piece of information from the old miser. 

Maybe I am just truly bohemian where I am more concerned with how I feel with the job that the return. Charlie is the complete opposite. Well, in the beginning. He wants the cash but doesn’t want to do the work of he doesn’t like what he’s doing. For instance, he has researched the shit out of how much teachers salaries are (he’s studying to be a high school teacher) and what level of education brings in the most income. I worry that he hasnt taken into consideration whether he will like working with kids. Given his past history for impatience with children I feel my concern is warranted. But more than anything I am scared that he will be just like his mother and jump from job, to job, to job, to job and then wind up with nothing to show for his efforts come retirement. 

Me on the other hand, my mother gave me stability. She worked for State Farm my entire youth and racked up 40 years of experience with the company. She would probably still be working there if her department hadn’t been moved to Colorado. I think it was this example that gave me my perseverance for staying in one place. Granted I will be jumping ship when I have completed my education, but I am nowhere near that point. 

It’s been some time word press. I hate to use you only for when I’m feeling blue or angry but what is a blog/online journal for but for the airing of grievances?

School has been on my mind the most. Yet it’s the last thing I actually do. I have a research paper due in less than a week and I have found no sources not have I done any thorough research. So basically it’s par for the josh course. I have a 4 page essay due on Monday and so many other things to do this weekend. My husbands and my life has been close to hectic. Our schedules are so out of whack. He’s doubled up on classes at University of Phoenix so that he can graduate by the end of July. He wants to get started with the credential program as soon as possible. It’s strange to think he’s graduating. I want to do something nice for him. This is something that doesn’t happen everyday and is a big deal, even though he insists on downplaying it. 

Last year in my student development class, one of the assignments was to make s five year plan. What’s strange is it has somehow become a real life plan. It has been decided between Charlie and I that in four years we are moving to Long Beach. At which time I will continue my education and he will start a teaching job. (and I’ll be planning our family expansion in secret.)  As it stands, the plan is to spend the next few years trying to save up money so that at the end we can buy a house instead of renting. 

I’m starting to wonder if journalism is the best for me. I made that sound more certain than I meant it to be. It was a passing thought the other day that seems to have a faint after taste. 

If it hasn’t become abundantly clear, my plan to do a writing prompt every day for a total of 365 has taken a back seat. My evenings are full to the brim with my social life and school that there just isn’t enough time. At least I’m still exercising my brain.

I’m rather frustrated with myself. I am meant to write and submit a formal argument essay in my english class and for once I have nothing to debate. The usual issues that get my blood boiling don’t seem to have the usual potency. I must be broken. Given a task I could do for no reason except to vent but instead can’t even find the words. I know what’s causing the block in my brain. It’s the same issue that has kept me from finishing my novel, I am going to be judged. My mind gets so caught up on structure and tone that I fail to actually do any real writing. It’s terrible. I just need to relax and trust in my ability. When I dig deep enough in my heart I know that I can do this. I’m just allowing my fear to keep me from accomplishing anything.

Onto other news… My husband was fired from his job which makes me the sole bread winner. Weird. In addition, we also have a new roommate. Which is rather handy cause we will need the extra cash.

My friend Jesse and his girlfriend broke up. She bragged to their ex-roomy about having an affair with some chick and when the friend had the chance told Jesse every detail. Needless to say their relationship was over.

It’s crazy to think how quickly things change.

A year of writing prompts
January 23
Write about an author that turns down the opportunity many authors would kill for. (I’m paraphrasing. I’m doing this on my iPhone.)

Ferris called Jared vibrating with excitement. The novice novelist could hear the feedback of his agents enthusiasm over the line as a low hum.
“You are not going to believe it!” Ferris said for the tenth time. (Many had been in quick succession.)
“Either you can tell me or I’m hanging up. As much fun as it is to play guessing games in really not in the mood.”
“Not on the phone! Meet me at Sandrini’s downtown and we can discuss it over dinner. I’m buying kid.”
The agog agent didn’t even wait for a response before he hung up.
Jared pocketed his traditional flip cell phone and headed out.
The drive downtown was quicker than he thought it would be, but after all it was only noon on a Wednesday.
Sandrinis was an Italian restaurant in a converted basement below a hair salon. The exposed brick walls were bright red against the stained concrete floors. The circular, cherry wood, bar stood in the center, dividing the dining room from the pool table.
Jared descended the steps into darkness. Once his eyes adjusted he noticed ferris across the room, his nose in his smartphone.
The new author strutted over to the booth and removed his coat before he slid in.
“Order whatever you want!” Ferris said, beaming. “My treat.”
The two perused the menu in relative silence; ferris was humming to himself a tune Jared didn’t know.
Since being dragged across town against his desire to stay quiet at home, Jared decided to make the most of this lunch. He found the most expensive thing on the menu and ordered it without hesitation. Ferris gaped for a moment before grinning and waving his hand.
Jared sighed and ran a rough hand through his brown hair. It felt weird to him to be outside. Then it dawned on him that this was the first time in two weeks, since Lorrie and he had parted ways.
The sadness bean to creep over his shoulders onto his chest.
“Now are you going to tell me?”
“Your book has been chosen to be turned into a big blockbuster movie!” Ferris squealed with delight and once he had finished it was silence on the line.
“This is not going to happen.”