I know it's not fall yet, and I also know that it doesn't ever really become fall in Southern California. But by golly, I'm listening to Fleet Foxes. I wish we had more ash trees around here, because they're the only sign we have of autumn around here. On the way to school this morning I drove down a street that was lined with them, and they've already turned red and brown and gold. It was beautiful - but of course, an odd contrast with the palm trees that stood right next behind them.
I've been wanting to write a lot more recently, but somehow all that I can think of are short stories that end up depressing me. I can't think of a good storyline that will go more than two or three pages. I suppose real writers have that problem too... but real writers either know a way to get over it, or else are good enough at bs-ing so that no one can tell the difference. I suppose that a good writer shouldn't settle for bs-ing at all, but that secret is between a writer and his craft. We shall never know. Unless I one day become an accomplished writer. Then I'll find out and let you know. Maybe.
Monday's are so horribly long. This morning I was pretty much dead when my alarm went off, even though it went off at 8, which is much later than usual. I really do have a condition - I go through the day yawning and knowing that, if I sit somewhere long enough, I could fall asleep inside of five minutes. But then, come 9:00 PM, I'm full of energy and decide that since I'm so awake, sleep would be a silly thing. The next morning the process starts all over again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Siiigh. In any case, the point is that Mondays are long. I have college algebra, and after about an hour in that class my brain shuts off, so I murder my hand taking ridiculous notes so that I can study what he said at home because there's no way I'm getting it all right now. From there I hop across town to my art appreciation class, which is pretty much the most boring way possible to study what should be a very interesting thing. I like art. In fact I love art. But this class is doing nothing for my appreciation of it. And from there, I hop across yet another part of town and enter mime 20 minutes late, and stay until 5:00... at which time I go home and change into my baggy, cut-up Beatles shirt and drink coffee until dinner, trying to nurse my aching brain.
Speaking of mime, today was our second day. I realize that I made it sound exhausting just now, but it's not - in fact, it's probably the part of the day (aside from late at night) when I feel the most energized. It's really quite fun. Today I got to be a juror (in the Courtroom of 'Forever'), and THEN in another song, I was a schizophrenic (meaning I had multiple parts, not a medically prescribed schizophrenic): I was a creepy witchcraft crystal-ball girl/cutter, and from there became one of the two guards who crucifies Jesus. It seems that in plays I'm always cast as the ditzy/funny/sweet person, so it was nice to do something more 'serious'. Mom told me afterward that I would make a good demon. I try not to think that much into that...
I'm bored out of my mind, incidentally. I feel like I need to do something right now, but doing something would mean (if I were a good person) doing homework. And I'm not really alert enough to do that. Last night, for example, I took out my psychology book and started reading. Soon I heard the telephone ringing and realized that after reading 4 pages, I'd dozed off and been asleep for a full half hour.
I want to redecorate my room. The only trouble is that I love my room. I just have this itch to do something creative on a big scale, and my room is the most accessible. This is a frustration. Maybe I should just paint my closet, or the cat, or something...
Alright. Either a nap or more coffee is in order. Maybe I'll give Amelia a call. I've no excuse to feel bored or be lazy. But gosh darnit I'm going to.
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