a freewrite before i rewrite.

There's nothing like the feeling of your professor tearing your thesis to shreds.

Nothing.

So i'm in the PCL again. "Working" on this paper, which i feel so intimidated by. How does it make ANY sense that Zora Neale Hurston scares me more than Joseph Conrad??

Not cool.

But besides my present situation, the day has been great. One of those "yeah, this is college" days. Kind of like...TV. But better. No weird feelings. None at all.......Until i came back to campus.

Just when I thought that weird feeling subsided, someone gave it perfect reason to bubble up again. I hate it. It's the kind of feeling that you would never admit to somebody, in so many words. It's the kind of feeling that you're scared of, but don't exactly know why.

That's a lie.

I know EXACTLY why.

Because you may be the only one feeling it. Because your feeling is completely, utterly, embarrassingly.....unfounded.

But that is my own problem.

Back to my paper, remember?

Hurston claimed that, for women, the dream is the truth. Profound, ain't it?

Problem is, I don't know WHAT THE HELL she means.

This paper is going to eat.me.alive. But i can't help but remember all the times i said that before, and, yeah, i'm still here.

[side note]
my writing style is disgustingly different all throughout this post
[end side note]

I literally have 1 day to write a solid paper. If i can do that, all my other problems will disappear.

So, in summation, my Saturday:

old friends, new friends. good cause. good people. good food.....and an occasional flitter of my heart.

Goodnight,
Evelyn.