Times Like These

It’s no secret I’ve been suffering through some copious amounts of anxiety as of late. More than I usual–and understandably so, I think. But all that came to a momentary halt when I came home from work on Friday and was greeted by my younger brother, Max–and a present. He had specially made. For me.

Let me just pause here to review for you Readers who may not be as familiar: I’ve written about Max a bit on here, but just in case you do not feel like searching through my blog’s archives for accounts of our sibling interactions, here’s the gist. Max is my younger brother whom I love with my whole heart…and who also happens to be on the high-functioning end of the spectrum of Asperger Syndrome (which is on the high-functioning end of the spectrum of autism). Basically, he has AS, but functions so seemingly “normal” (by society’s definition, anyway) in everyday life, passersby would likely not know he has it unless told. At the very least, he may simply come across as eccentric, but beyond that…

Asperger Syndrome and autism have made remarkable waves throughout media in recent years, so I think the general population has a decent grasp on the concepts. But, in a nutshell, autism is a developmental disorder that interferes with the ability to communicate, to interact with the outside world. Asperger Syndrome is much the same, only the interference with communicating is, I suppose you could say, to a lesser degree; as I said, AS is more high-functioning. So while someone with autism may struggle to interact with another, with the outside world, to the extent of being nonverbal (no talking), someone with Asperger’s does talk and interact with others, but there are conditions. Maybe they talk too much about a certain subject yet are notably silent on others. Maybe they pace back in forth while they talk. Or don’t make eye contact. Or speak in a flat, monotone voice. It all varies, case-by-case. In short? Autism folks struggle to communicate; Aspies, as well, but to a lesser degree–so much so that they are more perceivably “normal” to the rest of us… yet, not normal enough.

Back to Max’s gift. My little brother has surprised me with his behavior throughout the years. And this past weekend, he continued that trend. Individuals with Asperger’s are not typically known for their thoughtfulness; they tend to live in their own world, focusing on their perspective. I attribute it to a starring character in a movie–the person with Asperger’s takes on the main role, while everyone else serves lesser roles. Everything that happens to the former is a BIG DEAL, and is interpreted and reacted to only based upon on how said happening affects them. Seems kind of selfish, yes? But I think we’re all pretty guilty of that from time to time. In any regard, while Max exhibits this way of thinking, he also balances it out with his random bouts of thoughtfulness.

Evidence A: I’m a pretty big fan of Disney. I mean who isn’t, to some degree? I’m certainly not a fanatic by any means, but do I like the movies, the catchy songs, the overpriced theme parks? Yeah! I do. So anyways, Max is taking an art class at school this semester and I guess his teacher was giving students some free reign in their latest project and so Max sketched a detailed replica of the acclaimed Disney Castle…with the intention of giving it to me. Which he did! And Readers, let me tell you my heart became so full right then–so much that I think it promptly melted as a delayed response to the kind gesture.

Look, I know, in most other cases, with “normal” siblings, this wouldn’t be a big deal. Some siblings might be genuinely touched but not make a huge commotion out of the affair. Others might not think anything of it, limply accepting the drawing and then forget about it in the weeks to come. And there are those who may not do much of anything at all. I mean, it’s only a drawing, right? Of something I only like, but not fanatically love. What’s so great about that?

Max and I are not a “normal” case (is there such a thing with any set of siblings, though?). I don’t see a measly sketch. I see tangible evidence of my dear Aspergian brother thinking of someone else. I see an act of kindness, of love, that lets me know Max loves me and thinks of me and values me. To receive that, when people with autism/Asperger’s aren’t known for their consideration or their affection, just warms me to my core.

And gives me momentary respite from my constant, nearing-graduation-anxiety. Nothing distracts you from life’s hardships quite like love…or something. And I’m thankful I’ve been granted times like this to remind me of that.

Love on, Readers.


Okay, Fine–I’m Scared

Do you remember a few posts ago, when I was so confident, so at peace with where I was in life–despite not having my future figured out beyond graduation? I remember concluding with something along the lines of, “I hope this season of peace lasts!”

It’s like I know myself so well, like I knew my unusual bout of contentment wouldn’t remain.

Now, I wasn’t being negative, just realistic. I know myself (you know, to some degree) and I worry about everything. It’s just who I am–it’s side effect of anxiety, or something. So when I wasn’t worried about my lack of post-grad job, lack of calling, lack of purpose, I suspected it was only a matter of time… And I was right! Not that I wanted  to be…

Once I officially hit the two month mark before graduation, reality really set in for me. I’m doomed to a series of lasts with where I am in life. Er, a suspected series of lasts. Who knows? Maybe I’ll go back to school after all. But at the moment, I’m planning on this chapter of my life to come to a close. After I walk across the stage, receive my diploma, I will be diving into the workforce, impressing my new employer with my super awesome writing skills. Better yet, helping people in need with those writing skills… somehow. But once all that begins, I will no longer be in school. A life I’ve known for the past 17 years or so will be replaced by another. And that’s kind of daunting.

I should clarify: I’m really not that sentimental about leaving school behind, no longer being a student. Sure, these past four years have been filled with an abyss of change; I’m not the same person now as I was coming into college, that’s for sure. But I’m ready for something new; I’m ready to break free from the coddling of school and enter the real world. Ready to help the real world.

No, what I’m more fearful of is: I don’t know what this real world, what this new life will entail. I don’t know my path, what His plan is for me. Sure, I’ve talked about on here my ideals to write and help others and to somehow merge the two, but that’s what want to do. I don’t know if that’s what I’m supposed to do, what He wants me to do. There’s a difference between passions and talents and callings–only in some instances do those happen to be synonymous (also known as a vocation, but I digress)–and I’m not sure my wants and abilities align with where the Lord places me. I mean I imagine He’ll interfere at some point if I’m barreling down the wrong path; I’ve prayed for Him to direct me. But so far, I’m still waiting. I’m still uncertain. And that scares me.

I don’t know what’s in store for me next. And when I hear everyone else disclose their plans following graduation, whether it be workforce (already signed on for a job) or graduate school or mission work or some other amazing Plan XYZ, how they seem to have everything all figured out, I’m led to feel… left behind, I guess. Like everyone else has their life together and I don’t. Look, I know there’s a chance they don’t, in fact, have their life together as much as they may say they do. I know comparison is detrimental–especially for someone with anxiety. But knowing that isn’t going to stop my worry, prevent me from wishing I had A Plan after I move from one phase of life to the next. I just want to know what I’m supposed to do, what I’m meant to do. But I don’t. And man, Readers, it’s teaching me a whole lot about patience and God’s timing.

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I actually haven’t even seen “FRIENDS,” but this seems relevant…

And if any of you Dear Readers who may be going through something similar, who are about to embark on a new time in life, who don’t know what’s next? Whelp. I feel your pain, I do. Huzzah, solidarity! I’m here, too, waiting right there with you… I guess we’ll see what happens, right?

Also, for the record, I don’t hope this season lasts.

From the Anxious Friend

Hey Friend,

Or at least, I hope you consider me a friend (I mean, I consider you a friend), but I’ll honestly never really know. Thanks to a not-so-friendly “friend” living in my head whom I call Anxiety.

Now, he’s (it’s a boy–don’t you know?) not so bad all the time. In a weird way, he can be kind of a blessing–but that’s a topic for another day. You, my dearest Friend, are likely to benefit more from learning about the Anxiety that you can see, the less bless-filled part of the Anxiety, the outward, crazy, clingy side of the little gremlin in my head.

Like when I call you friend…but question whether you would call me one right back.

Like when I ask for the bazillionith time whether you like me or not…because my Anxiety tells me you don’t.

Like when I phish for compliments…to assure that you truly like me like you said and have genuine reasons to be my Friend.

Like when I text you and you don’t text me back…so I stop reaching out, stop communicating altogether.

Like when you show any small sign of ignorance or dismissal in any way… I immediately assume everything you said about liking me and being my Friend is false. That I am bothering you, or have wronged you somehow, and that you no longer like me. Or, in fact, that you never did.

Because that’s what my friend Anxiety tells me. And it’s kind of hard to compete with a friend that never leaves. That’s always in your head.

Let me tell you, Friend, that no matter how many times you assure me you’re my friend, that you like me, that you think I’m AWESOME, that you assure me you saw my message–you were just busy–and I’m momentarily consoled, my Anxiety will always be there to demolish your carefully built (and re-built) reassurance. To push me off of whatever pedestal you managed to place me on. So I can return to where I was–afraid and uncertain and, well, anxious.

And let me tell you, Friend, that it BLEEPIN’ sucks. A lot. My mind is constantly moving in circles moving from assurance to doubt to loneliness and depression and back again. Over and over. No matter how many times I try to combat it, no matter how many times I ask you, dear Friend, for help, my Anxiety just comes back strong, barely beaten. And he never leaves. And to an extent, I’m fine with that, I’m used to it; this is my way of life, all I’ve known for as long as I can remember. As I, again, admit, there is a form of blessing in this annoying, detrimental creature  that lingers in my mind. But after years of living in such close proximity, I also admit–I’m tired.

I’m tired of constantly seeking affirmation from you, never being entirely satisfied with or trusting of your answer. I’m tired of confirming your intent with our friendship. I’m tired of worrying about and sometimes having downright panic attacks over seemingly nothing. I’m tired of spending so much time worrying over those nothings, that I can’t focus on the present or remember the past. I’m tired, period.

Because the thing is, despite how I act toward you and I assume you must perceive me based on those actions, I know I’m being irrational. I know I seem clingy or unconfident (not a word, but…) or too “worrisome.” And that’s because, well, I am. Thanks to the continual jabs from Anxiety. I know how my behavior and ways of thinking look. They’re silly, they make no sense. I agree… but I can’t stop it. Even when I try, Anxiety finds a way to appear, seeping into my actions, my behavior toward you. I can’t stop it. Not entirely.

Because like it or not (most days I don’t mind it so much), my Anxiety is a part of me. It is not me, it does not define me–despite how much I may talk about it or act on it–but it is a part of who I am. And has been for the majority of my life. I just wish (and maybe you do, too?) that he would move off center-stage in the play we call life–and wait in the wings for a few acts. Let someone else take the lead  for awhile…

But between Anxiety and me, I don’t always get as much say as I’d like. So I guess that’s part of why I have you, Friend. That is, if you call me a friend–I hope you do. I have you to remind me of my worth, to prove to me despite what my head says that we have a genuine relationship, and to help me keep Anxiety in his place… some of the time.

Look, Friend: I know I’m needy, I know I don’t make sense. I know I worry too much about things that don’t really matter. I don’t need you to tell me that. A lot of the time, I’m right there with you, I agree. I don’t need you to get it, to get me (though that is a bonus…); I just need you to be My Friend.

So thank you for that, Friend. And for what you’ve done, what you will do–all of it. Just, thank you.

Much love,

Your Quinn


The Senior Effect

I’m sure any of you who have been in school and attended for a final year and knew it was your final year had some feelings about that being the final year. For some, that might be what is coined senioritis, wherein your near-completion status fuels the desire to not do anything. Ever. The motivation is just not there, because you can already see the end, see what’s coming. For me, I’m not sure what to call it–it’s definitely not senioritis, so I’m calling whatever-it-is-I’m-going-through The Senior Effect. Well, my Senior Effect. I can’t guarantee anyone will identify with this feeling, not specifically.

The Senior Effect is…weird. It doesn’t fuel or deplete my motivation, or contribute extra feelings of disdain or affection for my school. Honestly, it hasn’t really affected my actions/behavior at all. It’s more a way of thinking, I guess–a viewpoint. The Senor Effect is like a lens through which I see and interpret everything I do now and gauge what influence these things may hold–if any–toward my future.

Because I know what I know: in a few short months I’ll be finished with school, possibly forever (unless I decide to go back) and enter the working world full-time as well as the Real World (i.e. commence “adulting” on a more independent level). And I know (er, more like I think I know–God may totally have different plans, unbeknownst to me yet) that a lot of what I am seeing and doing will be my last. Last class. Last lecture. Last witty banter with a classmate suffering through the same lecture. Last committee meeting. Last time walking through the academic buildings of campus. Last article written for work. Last internship. Last hanging out sessions with friends (for awhile). Last months living with family. Just. Lots of lasts. And knowing they are my lasts (to some extent).

And while I may be more sentimental about some of those lasts than others, the kicker is, I’m not really sad about any of them. Well the friends and family stuff, yeah, but the others? Not really sad, not really excited. Not scared, not anxious (well, you know), not impatient. Not anymore. I just… have this sort of peace for where I’m at right now. When I’m not stressed about writing my theses (and even then, I’m insanely excited to work on them, but I guess that’s why they tell you to focus on what interests you…). I know what’s to come yet all the uncertainty it brings and what I still have to do to get there between now and then. But I’m in a place where I’m not sprinting to get to this next chapter of my life and I’m not wistful enough to crawl in attempt to stay where I am longer. I’m just living life at its own pace, trying to focus on one day at a time. Or at least one week…

The Senior Effect is… kind of nice. It’s like the Acceptance stage in coping with Life Transition. Because I’ve definitely undergone Anxiety and Discomfort and Fear and Depression (and I’m totally making up my stages here) and all that impatience and lack of motivation that come with those at the beginning of the academic year. I mean, have you read my blog? But I’m finally in a place where I’m content with where I am. And am patiently (kind of) waiting for my next steps, for whatever God has in store.

So let’s hope I didn’t totally wreck this peace by blogging about it… Have a blessed, peaceful(ish?) week, Friends!


Life Update: Everybody Leaves

I was looking back on the posts I’ve written over the course of the past few months (a horrible mistake, really), and realized I tend to write a lot about my personal conflicts, tough decisions, and, in general inner turmoil. But I never really follow-up with, well, the follow-up to those decisions–the aftermath. Presuming you truly care, dear Reader, I plan to remedy those unresolved issues for you now.

Well… a couple of them. To the best of my ability. And also create another new non-problem problem.

For starters, my uncertain future regarding a career has marginally become less uncertain. And yet, not really. Mostly I’ve just transitioned from thinking I want to be solely a journalist or feature writer to wanting to do that and aid in other communication-related mediums for a nonprofit organization. I know I definitely want to work in the nonprofit sector and with communications–mostly written, but other forms too–and that’s about it. Everything else is a bit of a blur. No particular interest in one specific cause (I have several). No particular job position that encompasses all I want to do (there are several).

But I feel called to help people, that I know. And God has given me a gift in writing (though maybe not for a personal journal-esque type blog). The obvious answer seems to be to merge the two. And if that’s wrong, I’m certain He will tell me. So I believe that whatever happens: it will be alright.

But graduation is a few short months away…

Thus, in the meantime I will be working on my theses (woot!)…and continuing my walk with God. I have continued to find ways to connect and talk with Him, growing closer in our relationship. And it has been so invigorating, heartwarming. So much of me feels ready to take that official step, to become a Christian. But the primary belief needed to be a true Christian, or Follower of Christ, puts a halt to that.

Now, I don’t not believe in that particular sentiment. But it’s one thing to understand, to “know” in your mind, and another to feel, to know in your heart. I’m still waiting for God’s gift of faith in the latter. I can feel Him leading me there, placing me directly in front of those walls blocking my path. I only see what’s directly in front of me, I know I need to climb over it all–and I even know how–but I cannot do it alone. And I haven’t had to… so far.


After a significant amount of internal struggle (seriously, looking back, it’s almost comical how intensive this decision was for me), I decided to remain with that beloved third Bible study–the one with the diverse teachings and eclectic community of phenomenal people. Prior to my deciding moment, I ended up confiding in the friend who introduced me to the group and, of course, God. Much like I suspected, I was shown all the good, the potential that could arise out of staying with the group but was also reminded of the liberty I had in choosing my path. So, though still hesitant, I made the choice to stay.

Several months later, I’m so glad I did. I’ve made quite a few absolutely tremendous friendships (and deepened others) out of doing so. That’s a pretty big deal for someone with GAD and SAD! These are individuals whom I haven’t known for the entirety of my life but with whom I feel comfortable discussing my most personal struggles. I come to them with anything big or small, ridiculous or… no, still pretty ridiculous conflicts, and am met with love. Love that takes place in many forms–particularly helpful insight. And from that, I have been able to more comfortably navigate my walk with God, more confidently scale those walls obstructing my path. Only now…

…I have been reminded the immediacy of this love, this love from these particular people, has a time stamp. That love and guidance–at least through the form of this group–has the potential to be taken away.


Okay, that is slightly dramatic. But considering my anxiety and the consequent worrisome, negative emotions, that is how I’m feeling–even if it may not be the reality of the situation. You see, the bulk of this Bible study is made up of people in similar stages of life as I: in college or graduate school or figuring out their career. And that’s great, solidarity and all that. But what follows close by? Graduating, changing jobs, moving around, leaving. With graduation already looming near for several others in the study and myself, you can bet this has already been in the back of my mind for awhile. Only now…

…others in the group have already (temporarily) left–unexpectedly. Hence the time stamp. Granted, life happens. They are placed in front their own walls they need to climb over. And to focus on that, they sometimes need to turn their attention away from other things. I completely understand that; I was just there myself only a few months ago. I do not fault anyone for navigating their life so intentionally, for following God’s path.

…I just wish it could be done without physically leaving.

Now, there are plans for return–some more certain than others. But I’m still hesitant. This is going to seem like a lack of trust, a lack of faith, but whenever something like this has happened in a friendship–namely those that have felt especially close–the relationship ultimately fades into nothingness. Seriously, the few though extremely close friendship I have (aside from Bible study) have lasted as long as they have partially due to proximity. And also that little thing called intentionality–we both make the effort to do life together.

Looking back, some of those friendships that dissolved were likely not meant to be, or were only necessary for that person and myself in that stage of life. God knew what we needed and placed us together, even though His intention for us wasn’t long-term. And we can never really know His entire plan. But my past experiences with close friendships have warranted some understandable hesitation with my newer relationships. With trusting that they will last despite the walls. I hope they do. I pray they do. But maybe that isn’t part of His plan… though that really would help in my walk…


I just need to trust Him, have faith all will happen as it should. And, in the meantime, enjoy what I have while I have it. You know, if Mr. Anxiety will let me–I mean talk about walls…

How’s that for a life update, Friends? Hope you’re having a more peace-filled life than I!


Oh, Dear

In less than 24 hours, I will embark on my final semester of college.

…er, at least, of undergraduate years…

That’s pretty amazing (read: disturbing) when you really think about it. But I’m actually  kind of looking forward to it, to venturing out into the “Real World”. Even though I don’t know what it will entail–what God has planned for me…

I don’t know what’s coming, but I’m eager for it. Not necessarily ready for it (are we ever), but I’m waiting with barely contained enthusiasm for His plans. When I should be focusing more on today rather than four months from now… That’s kind of hard to do when you’ve spent most of your life focusing on the future. The problem is you tend to miss out on the present. We need to work on that.

…mm. My theses are pretty much my present/now/today at the moment. But even those require some thinking ahead. Small compromise, I guess…

But with that, there’s a chance (more like a definite) I won’t be posting as regularly over the course of the next few months. I’m going to try every other week, but heading into spring, even that may be too much. I don’t know; I’ve never written an extensive senior thesis before, much less two. But I’m pretty sure there isn’t ample time for blogging (er, in my case, pouring my inner-workings out to the internet masses). So we’ll try, but shoulder shrug. I can’t worry about the future.

Because I’m focused on the now.

Or something…

Oh, dear.


What Drives Her?

Heyo Friendos!

First, I’d just like to express intangible gratitude to be finished with the semester (and halfway done with my SENIOR YEAR of college). In all honesty, it reallllllly wasn’t that bad–mainly just trying to finish all my projects and papers on time. So anyways, yay! I’m off for a few weeks! ….Unless I try to work more on my thesis, which, knowing me… We’ll see. 🙂

Anyways, subject for the day’s post. I actually have quite a few ideas all jumbled around in my head right now–some of which, you’re probably glad I haven’t taken the time to sit down and write–but they’ve all been momentarily sidelined by something else that happened this week. A conversation I had with my Dad, actually…

This particular parent of mine travels a lot for work. And what is traveling but discovering new places… and meeting people new people… and perhaps further bonding with those who’ve accompanied you on your journey. So my Dad also has to socialize. Also, a lot. Which is, yikes, introvert that he is, but he’s a charming, outgoing introvert so I guess it works. And it was during one of these little periods of socialization that has me so perplexed, inspired–enough to share with you all to maybe evoke a similar reaction. Or not.

I’m going to risk sounding relatively selfish for a second here and say that in this chat, my Dad was discussing me–my school, internships, volunteer work, writing, post-graduation plans, etc.–usual my-daughter-Quinn stuff, I thought, when my Dad later relayed to me this conversation. But what set it apart from the rest was, rather than simply responding with a smile and encouraging comment–“You must be so proud!”–this particular conversation partner wanted to dig deeper, below the surface of basic school/work information. They wanted to know why I was doing what I was, why I kept so busy, so seemingly motivated. Dad did best he could to provide sufficient responses, like I simply enjoy keeping busy, using my time to serve others, etc. But apparently that wasn’t enough.

“But what drives her?” they asked.

It’s like that phase we (mostly) all go through as kids–the “why” phase. We question every little thing, asking why. We want to seem profound, wanting to know more, when really we’re just being ornery little kids, amusing ourselves more than anything. But this colleague of my father’s was very intentional about uncovering the core of my motivation. And my Dad, who wanted to give the right answer more than anything, couldn’t, as he later confessed to me.

I think he wanted to get my answer so he could be ready for next time. So he could realllllly know his kid–on an even deeper level (though I’m not sure that’s possible. I try pretty hard to remain as transparent as I can be with those close to me). But when he recounted to me this archaeological dig into my life, I couldn’t go any deeper. Because I didn’t have an answer.

I still don’t. But it’s not because there isn’t… I just don’t know what it is yet.

What drives me?

Serving others? Serving God? Because without my drive, I wouldn’t have much in this world except the life with which God granted me?

Why do I do what I do? How do I really know? Because I don’t think I do… Not at this point. I wish I could contrive a temporary answer that’s even a remote jab in the right direction to provide for you all asking yourselves the same thing, to provide myself. But at this point I’m at a loss. I’m still pondering. I’m continuing to ruminate.

Once I figure this out, maybe I’ll return to this post and share, but for now…

What drives you?

Stay curious, Friendos.


The Oddities of an English Major

In light of finals week (hence the lack of post last week–sorry guys!) and finishing the bulk of my remaining English classes this semester, I thought I’d post about one of my more recent experiences and lessons learned from studying a subject I so adore. Enjoy! Maybe…

Being an English major, I write. A lot (shocking I know). What this means is, about once each week I have some kind of writing assignment due. Usually more often. Usually more higher-stakes–than most other majors, that is.

As an avid writer (and reader), I realllly don’t mind this. In fact I quite like it! To an extent… But see, when you take multiple English courses in a single semester on top of other non-English courses that are just as writing-intensive, you tend to become a little… burned out in your writing endeavors.

Consequently, if you’re me (you do quite like writing), your desire to give each and every assignment your best effort diminishes over the semester somewhat. Plus, what energy you do have is all directed toward constructing your senior thesis (or, theses… haha don’t be like me)–that big, bad writing project that pretty much determines whether you can graduate from the all-expensive, stress-inducing preparation for the real world phase in life we call college. All this to mean I don’t always try as hard as I could on some of the papers I turn in for class.

Now, me being me, my “not trying” is still quite a bit of trying. But I don’t stress quite like I would with writing assignments during an “average workload” semester. Like, seriously guys, I once spent seven hours writing a two-page paper. Because I’m me. And I stress in even the calmest of situations. Isn’t anxiety grand? So, in a sense, having a relatively “care-free” attitude in regards to writing my papers has been advantageous, but I digress.

Unfortunately, “not trying” does not go unnoticed–especially at a small school. And when your “not trying” takes place in a class with a professor who loves you and your writing abilities. This loving professor recently handed back a paper I’d turned in and had not (even I admit) done my best work on, and, though I received an awesome grade, the comments let me know my paper wasn’t perhaps quite worthy of the grade… or was it? Basically, my professor said my argument didn’t make much sense, was unclear. However, whatever it was I was trying to say was well-supported and well-worded. So there’s that. But then I say, well which is it? Can I really write a strongly-supported claim even if it’s, essentially, completely obtuse?

According to my grade–the evaluation of my skill–I sure can. In the case of English-based term papers, assignments are graded more on evidence and presentation (eloquence) more than context and relevancy. And I guess if I have the skills to put together an argument and do so eloquently, I shouldn’t worry whether my points are completely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

But I do.

Because in the real world, relevancy is a big, big factor that drives assignments. Relevancy evokes the need for written content (think: news); without it, we have, well, works like my blog. Much like my term papers, though perhaps entertaining and occasionally enlightening, it doesn’t always provide much grounds for application, for action. Not realistically speaking, at least. But see, I enjoy the creative side of formulating an argument, realistic and logical or not. Unfortunately, then I’m met with responses like those of my professor’s–my writing is “brilliant but lacking rationale”. Sigh…

It’s no wonder people speculate with skepticism the job prospects of those in my major (which is just, totally incorrect, by the way–I mean the world needs communicators, analysts, creatives, which all can arise from English degrees, but, believe what you want to believe). Just kidding! It appears I have skill. I just need to… perhaps revise my approach. Be realistic. Logical. Caring. All completely doable… when I don’t have three others papers, a speech, and a test to prepare. Off to a great start here. Perhaps next semester? Oh wait, I’ll be writing my theses. So yep, I’ll definitely need to be incorporating that logic and care there. Ohhhh excitement…