05 March 2003

The Evergreen academic fair was today. I had two courses I wanted to take; the first one had nobody manning the booth, and the second one was full.

The third one I looked at is only eight credits (I have to be taking at least 16, I think), and the fourth one requires a writing sample.

So I've been looking through this journal for the past few hours, looking for something decent enough to call a "writing sample."

...And frankly, I think that most of this journal makes me sound like a shallow, whiny bitch. In the times in my life when I have not been shallow and whiny, I have not been writing very much. I can't turn any of this in; it all sounds like a big stupid sitcom. I sound like a drama queen, even when I'm talking about simple, unimportant things. Four years, and I can't find ONE thing I'd turn in as a "writing sample."

Maybe I really shouldn't bother with this "writing" thing anymore. My writing embarrasses me. I ought to go into typing. Professional typing. I'll type up other people's stuff.

Sometimes I really think I ought to quit college and just fucking accept the fact that I have no future.

~Helena*