Hehe. I underlined my name on the Faure Requiem.

Since the composer's name is Gabriel, I just underlined it and wrote Spector underneath.  I'm so incredibly witty.

Participation: 100 for watching Seventh Seal and participating in the discussion.  Hwatah.

So I'll type up my SOC from Friday tonight, since I just got home basically, and I don't feel like reading.  And I believe you said to replace one journal entry this week with the SOC.  I'll try to recreate the sizing a bit.



Prompt:  Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced, and its impact on you.


Which experience can I talk about?  After all the essay hullabaloo, every major experience I can think of seems downright petty.  I feel as though nothing important has happened.  But that's something you told us two days ago.

SHUT

And my mind goes fucking blank.

Perhaps my "dilemma" or "experience" is my goddamn relationship with writing.
Mind.  Shut the fuck up.  NOW.

I don't feel like I can nail down one thing that has affected me.  And all the things I can think of are from when I was tiny.  Yeah, they shaped me, but they feel like silly things.

I gave up ballet at SAB.  I do have that.  And I didn't realize fully what I had done in doing so until sometime last year.  I gave up world class training with amazing people, and I didn't even realize.  I could come up with ways to blame my father or my mother, or my school, but ultimately it was my decision.  Clock says it was probably 10 minutes.

I give up.  What am I doing?  What am I doing here?

Why did I waste people's time?  So many people to blame, only one of them accurate.

Whenever I start to think about anything

Now I'm thinking about not thinking
What I would give to cry right now.  My mind feels like someone took a manual film reel, and put each frame as a different plot.  But each frame is subdivided into these tiny other frames.  Hundreds

1 4 9 16 25 36 49 64 81 100 121 144 169 196
And I want to capture all of them.  But I fucking can't.  I have said nothing.  In 15 minutes of (almost) nonstop writing, I have not said anything about our prompt topic.  Because I feel like an inferior being.  A whole conversation just played in my head.

"People tell me I'm terrible.  Or great.  Or any # of things.  I just don't know who to believe."

"The person who can tell you that is yourself."

"FUCK. YOU."  If I'm so terrified, yet hungry to know, why do I bother?  Why should I keep trying at all?

God damn dance.