Thanks Guys!

Thanks to everyone who gave me their opinions on my last post! I can now have my English paper finished up by this afternoon (after I go to Urban Outfitters, and 7-11, and the grocery store and Target...okay so I may never stop procrastinating...).

Anyway, I just took down the previous post because I didn't want people randomly answering two weeks from now...so thanks again you guys! I mean it!

I couldn't have passed my English class without you! E-hugs!

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Spear Hunters, Rainbow Feathers, And Spirit Killers

Man, I would love to have a band called that. I think I'll just start bands to name them. We'll have one badass song and then disband. That would be so punk rock.

So I'm standing in my room, putting away my notebook and my roommate's friend Cindy is in there, using my roommate's laptop like always. I say hi and she asks me about my portfolio. (For our English 155 class we have to put together an end of semester portfolio filled with the essays we've written this semester.)

She asks me if I find that class hard and I say no. Boring? Yes. I have an extreme aversion to expository writing; it is more than obvious, I'm sure, that I prefer the more elaborate, richer storytelling side of writing. But hard? Nah.

Cindy then tells me that she really hates that class because her professor is so critical of her writing. She says that she has always had people tell her they liked her writing, and she has always gotten A's on her assignments. But this one professor thinks her writing is "complicated."

I tell her she can't let one person's opinion become fact. She says she doesn't want to major in Psychology anymore, and that she wanted to major in Journalism like me, but has lost her love of writing from taking this class. She says she dreads it now.

It makes me sad to hear things like this, because I can actually relate. In 10th grade, I had a teacher who would never give me more than a C on any paper I turned in, then once told me I was a good writer. I was like, WTF woman? Give me a fucking A then!

But I know I'm a fucking good writer. It just proves that you can't let one person stop you from doing what you want and love. I told Cindy she couldn't let it get to her because she'll be facing that all her life and if she let's it bother her, she'll just be sad and depressed.

Can you fucking believe it? I'm giving out goddamn life lessons now. Who would have ever thought...

But it's true. I remember when I was the Features Editor for my HS newspaper (hell yeah, I wrote the album and movie reviews AND won an award for my review of Justice's + thank you!) and I had to do news writing. I hated it. So very much. But instead of saying, "That's it, I never want to write again," I just said, "I'll never write on a newspaper again. But I'll keep writing."

You guys, never let anyone come between you and your dreams, desires, hopes, wants, loves, lusts, passions, whatever. Just remember: one person having a fucked up opinion does NOT make it fact.

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Comics Are Cartoons For Adults

I am so tired. Just tired. Je suis fatigue. I'm hungry and suddenly find myself wondering what ever happened to Joss Stone.

Anyways, this morning was volunteering at Glenwood Elem School. In case you didn't know (which you definitely probably didn't), I volunteer a few hours every week at Glenwood ES in Sun Valley, a small, low income city in the San Fernando Valley. It's pretty easy to miss; the exit for it is right off the 5 frwy, on the way to LA. Almost the entire population is Latino; I think there's only one non-Latino in that whole school that I've seen, and he's black.

My class, room 11, is awesome. The kids are bouncy and loud and remind me of 2nd grade, when you didn't want to listen to any adults and all you wanted was the other girls' approval. Today, I had to help out a little girl named Daniela, who can speak English fine but has trouble writing it. Like serio trouble. The class was writing Santa letters and she needed help.

I said, "What do you want for Christmas?"

She said, "I want the Hannah Montana."

"Hannah Montana everything?"

"Yeah."

*Sigh* "Okay, let's tell Santa that."

It got to the point where I was so exhausted that I had to tell her which letter to write. I would make the sound and she wouldn't know the letter so I had to get crafty. A was the house letter, O was the circle letter, h was the chair letter, N was the little mountain letter, and M was the big mountain letter. It took us 45 minutes to write eight sentences. I was so tired after that that my volunteering for the day was done, son.

Speaking of done, my religious studies class will be offish over in two weeks. Holla! No one ever take that class, okay? To further illustrate (literally) that point, I am going to show you what I do in that class. Uh, I mean besides sleep and skip.


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