Creatively inept.

I wish I was creative. Sometimes I think I am, sometimes I think, "Hey, that was a good story" or "I think this may actually be worthy of having other people read it," which, you know, may be the case, but nonetheless, most of the time, I keep it to myself. I wonder why I do that. I suppose my writing can't really ever get better unless it's out there in the world to gain feedback, right? But, I'm really not all that creative. The stories I write are all really the same story told over and over in different ways. Silly Sarah, why can't you branch out and write something new? Hmm. I wonder if I should just write nonfiction. Maybe I should write about social issues things? I'm fairly good at speaking and debating about those things, why couldn't I write about them? But, I love writing fiction. I guess I have a dilemma then. I'm probably better at writing nonfiction, but I love to write fiction. I should take a class. Oh, wait. I'm doing that in the fall. Will it really help to understand what I need to do to improve my fiction writing? My dad seems to think so. I'm funny about that, though. Having someone tell me how to write. I'm okay with criticism after the fact, but having someone tell me how I should write before I do the actual writing... I don't know how I feel about that. Of course, I've not taken the class, so maybe that's not really how it works. Hmmm.

I've recently been writing a lot about myself. Well, not so much about myself, but about things I've done. I've been switching back and forth between first and third person, and I've found that it's really interesting to write about autobiographical experiences from an omniscient perspective. It allows for me to look at the event or whatever it is I'm writing about from a different view. Step back from being the main character of the story and into being the audience watching all the characters in the story. Surprisingly, I remember things I may not have if I write about it in first person. It's enjoyable. It doesn't really make me feel very creative though. Writing about myself is easy. It's writing about other people and inventing their lives I seem to have so much trouble with.

It's not that I think I'm a BAD writer. I mean, I'm aware that I'm no Shakespeare or Salinger, but I can formulate words in to sentences that make sense, and create some story that has a beginning, middle, and end. Sometimes I use big words... sometimes. I feel really accomplished when I do. Hah. Sometimes I do surprise myself and I do write something unusally creative.

I'm hoping that my week alone in Richmond will help. I'll have so much alone/thinking time that I'll HAVE to make up things to keep me entertained. Maybe I'll write something really epic. That would be cool.

Speaking of Richmond. I have a few last minute packing things I need to do, so I must away from this blogging nonsense. I'm not going to have a computer for a week... that's a bit odd, since I won't be able to write my "this is my life, no one cares" blogs I'm so prone to write. But it will be good, I think.

I'll do some writing. Maybe I'll even post it once I have a computer again. We'll see.

Love love.

SAC.

I love:

My parents.
Emily Williams.
Gary Hopper.
Rachel Childs.
Lindsey Glass.
Erin Dubyak.
Tom and Linda Tamanini.
The outside world.
Trees.
Writing.
Acoustic Guitars and people that play them.
Chacos.
Running.
John and Hank Green.
Rufus and Carolyn Cadigan.
JD Salinger.
Robert Kennedy.
Late night phone conversations.
Barack Obama.
Richmond, Va.
Sleep.
Swimming in rivers.
Keith Olbermann.
The Beatles.
Coffee with honey.
Colin Singleton.
Pineapple.
Granola.
Books.
Hugging.
Chipped nail polish.
Will Smith "saves-the-day" movies.
Organic Milk.
NCIS.
The Food Network.
Random happy text messages.
Long walks.
WaHo trips at midnight.
Whitewater rafting.
Smiling at random strangers.
Happy endings.
My Kavu bag.
Helping people.
Working at The Nest.
Learning new things.
Epic converstations.
Bubble baths.
Informed debates.
Catching up with old friends.
Believing in peace.
You.

I like to run.

I like to run.
It makes me feel.
I feel things I don't feel when I'm not running.
I feel emotions I didn't know existed.
It lets me think, but not just think, explore.
Explore myself.
I learn things I didn't know about myself.
I listen.
The sounds of the world around me are fascinating and wonderful.
A bird chirps.
The wind rustles the leaves.
A car drives by.
I lose myself completely to the act of running.
It's as though I am outside of my body watching someone else run.
I do not enjoy anything like I do running.
It is an experience that cannot be replaced.
I've never been as happy as I am when I'm running.
I'm so alive.
I am free from any sort of worldly problems and any sort of personal issues.
I am alone in the world.
I am me.
No one can enter my world and no one ever will.
My feet hit the ground over and over and each time I feel a little further away from everyone.
I am running, and I don't need to think about anyone but me.
It is beautiful, and I feel beautiful.
I feel like I am someone that I love, and it is good.
I like to run.
It makes me feel.

Technology is out to get me today.

The computer has been funny all day. It's still being a bit funny even now.

My camera has something wrong with it. But, because I'm pretty inept when it comes to things like this, I have no idea what's wrong other than that when it turns on it just turns right back off, even though I know for a fact it's fully charged. Bah.

And, then my phone. Goodness. I thought it was working fine, but when I went to call Christy it froze and when I turned it back on I had five text messages and two voicemails I'd not gotten from hours before. What the hell?

I freaking hate technology.

I'm about to go meet a friend for Ice Cream. I will kill everyone if my car doesn't work. Especially since it's BRAND NEW.

Anyway, I hope tomorrow is better than today was.

Maybe tomorrow will be the day. I doubt it, though.

Love love.

SAC.

So, I got this yesterday:

Eeeeee!!!!! It makes me so happy.


Although, I did have a moment when I said goodbye to my other car since I was so strangely emotionally attached to that car.

But, now I can actually drive places. Which is good. =]. In fact, today I drove to Kennesaw, because Emily was here and I went to see her. It was so wonderful to spend time with her, even if it was only lunch and coffee. There's something to be said about talking in person verses talking on the phone or through email. I needed to vent about a couple of things and it was really good. And, it was good to hear about what's going on with her. It was a good time. Then I ran down and saw Rachel for about an hour. That was good.

Tomorrow=lots of laundry. I've got to start thinking about what I'm taking with me to Richmond. I can't believe I'm leaving SUNDAY! Bah!

Anyway, I'm done.

Love love.

SAC.

I love the "finding old pictures" game.

Freshman year? Maybe? At Chelsea's I think. I don't really know why I thought making this face was a good idea.


So, I had a dark hair phase. Which, I apparently thought looked okay. I was wrong. Boy, this was a different time in my life. I'm glad it's over.


Senior year of high school with Christy and Alex. This is one of my favorite pictures ever.


This is from the summer between sophomore and junior years of high school. Goodness gracious. I really wish my hair still did that sometimes.


Junior year of high school with Katie McCollough. I wonder what happened to her. I also wonder why I have so much make-up on. That's so not okay.