small excerpt from ambrosia

by varohaub (flickr)

I wiped the tear beading at the corner of my eye and turned around. I walked past the glossy marble pillars. I pushed aside the embroidered gold canopies. I shaded my eyes from the obnoxious shimmer of the hand-crafted crystal chandelier. I flew down a hundred steps that circled eternally like Dante's Inferno. And then I slammed the twenty-foot mahogany door behind me to further seal my ultimatum.

Then I realized, in the cold moonlight, that the house would simply swallow the sound of my anger, and they wouldn't even notice I was gone.

caught in the middle of it all

copyright gymnasticsrescue.com

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit"

- Aristotle

this year has gone by so fast. not the calendar year, but senior year. i have only 2 months to go and i feel so inundated with homework, tests, and bittersweet thoughts of graduation.

getting the Flinn scholarship definitely is the silver lining on the cloud and makes me feel like my life is going to change, hopefully for the better.

there are just so many things going on that i've been sadly neglecting ambrosia, but as soon as school's out, my devotion will be to my novel.

I'm excited to be on campus next year and i plan to join a writing group to help motivate me to finish the thing once and for all. it's very embarrassing when people ask what new things you've been writing and you don't have anything to say about it. i guess you could always go with the lame excuse " I've got a lot of works in progress that aren't ready to be seen.. just yet..."

if writing is not supposed to be an act, but more a habit, then how can i really call myself a writer? if i only write when i have time or when i feel like it, am i really a writer? if you really love something, you're supposed to make time for it, so why am i giving my schedule precedence over my favorite past time?

the time i don't spend physically writing, i dream writing. how sad is that when the only time i have to imagine is in my sleep? i leave a pen and notebook on my bedside table if i somehow wake and need to write down my moment of brilliance that fixes a plot problem or makes me understand a character better.

but i usually can't read my handwriting come morning so next time, i'll try a tape recorder and see if i mumble in my sleep...