Writing in College: |
-- Entering college I didn't realize how wonderful writing could become. As my education became more serious, my writing became more thoughtful every year. My freshmen year I took a writing fiction and poetry class and it was there that I was able to truly write. Composing our own poems and stories had me thinking about writing constantly.
As I grew older, I found myself constantly talking to myself. Wanting to write about the subject I was deeply thinking on. Sadly, these times usually happened when I was bored in another class (such as math) and I'd have terrible urges to pull out a piece of paper and write. Another class of mine gave me more education over literary interpretation and this pushed me to work hard. Dr. Siebers was instantly one of my favorite Professors here at WMU. I believe the reason I love her classes is because I see the passion inside her, and it makes me want to show mine, as well. The only (and hopefully last) class I have ever received a C in was British Literature 2. Although, I found the Professor to be way caught up on small quizzes over the literature, I knew he had passion as well. I read every single reading assigned and I still ended up failing my midterm. At that point I felt as if I could never be a writer. I literally cried to my mother on how hard I've been working and how I just couldn't understand how I could fail. She reminded me to use this moment as an opportunity for you to prove to yourself what you can truly achieve. I ended up passing the class, and from then on I told myself to never, ever, give up. |
Writing as a Passion:
In college, I find myself yearning to write at many moments. This piece of writing was written on April 12, 2012 and looking back on it today, I find it relatable to this class. I wrote this during one of my classes when I finished early on an assignment. I have multiple pieces of my writing on pieces of random notebook paper and these pieces seem to mean the most to me.
Here is an example of these "random writings" I tend to have:
(Beware, this was only a free write)
___________________________________________________________________
Date: April. 12, 2012
- I am not entirely sure what or where these feelings came from. Perhaps it is the overwhelming planning of my last year in college. Learning about these wonderful writers like Beckett and Wilde has inspired me to write, but it’s starting to cause my thoughts to race. Maybe I’d feel better if all these d*mn writers didn’t end up dying alone or spend their days isolated with their pencils. Scares me a bit, makes me question, what is a good writer? Is it all the constant observations I have, all these questions of uncertainty that drive one mad into a timeless art of literature? This year, I feel as if I’ve come to a sense of happiness and am more inspired to make my dreams come true. However, this whole teaching job is freaking the sh*t out of me. Seeing my dad burnt out of teaching drives me insane. My job, I promise, I will be in love with it. I won’t accept a burnt out job. I am starting to realize I need to stop contemplating my choice I’ve made. The point to this jabble is that all these inspirations to write are making my mind blow in pieces. Today, I literally felt my heart drop like the Power Tower and did it feel terrible! I had a realization going through my middle school “notes” between my friends and I. I realized that a huge part of my life is over with. Reading how people influenced my decisions, my self-esteem, and my friends made me want to laugh and slap myself all at the same time. To an average person, all those copies of AIM conversations & those dreadful gossip notes look like just a pile of stupid memories. I see all those memories as evidence of my development. I see the antecedent that created my behavior and today, I am living proof of each of my choices consequences.
Reading these memories made me realize, I have forgotten so many of them. As I grow older and look back at me being 22 years old, I don’t have anything saved except for Facebook photos. As I’ve become much more confident, I rarely show my emotions on social networking sites because I don’t need feedback on how I feel. I no longer need reassurance that I am making the right decisions, I love me. I don’t have notes written that emphasizes exactly the feeling I had at that exact moment. This is why I love writing, you can actually feel emotions by reading a person's writing. I am frightened that if I’ve forgotten so many memories from middle school, what will I possibly remember from today?
I don’t want to ever forget about these disgusting, stressful, glorious days. Perhaps it is the pressure of earning money like my dad, being truly happy, and following my dreams all at the same time that is scaring me? I feel like I’m running out of time at 22 years old. Help!
________________________________________________________________________________________________
This is another free write I wrote on "Facebook Notes" during the summer:
Date: Tuesday, May. 25, 2010
- If there is one thing I can name on the top of my head ithat has remained 110% loyal and faithful in my life it has been my friends and of course my family. Even though those best friends from Rochester High may go to another university far away, I know that there are multiple people from those deranged 4 years that I could call on in need of help. College is a really different experience, for there aren’t “the popular” kids, nor the outcast. Everyone is basically just looking out for himself or herself, which at times creates people to be incredibly egoistic. Of course you will always have stereotypes, but college really forces you to start new and find yourself. I can’t speak for all high schools but I know that at Rochester High I found many wonderful friendships.
Even though the too much of our time was spent with clicks disagreeing with other clicks or letting our immaturity to cause students to become defeatist towards different clubs or sports even within Rochester High (Yes, one of these was the dance team vs. cheer team rivalry). Today I laugh over these things because today (at least I hope others feel the same) I can talk about our stupid drama to even those on the opposing side and we both can laugh and agree that all along we were so blinded. Those sleepovers at the Morrison's house or hotel parties. The times of creating havoc in Rochester High's hallways such as "White Out", "300", or the pillow fight that was unsuccessful yet worth every moment. That Spring Break that had some of us on our death bed. And even through the guys talking behind other “crews” backs and dissin on other peoples “steez” there is ONE thing that the Class of 2008 had in common; those 4 years we grew up TOGETHER. Those 4 years were shared with amazing people and I wouldn’t EVER take back any memory. Now I stand today saying that I am very lucky to say that I have met a couple of girls that I can truly say, “define” my college years.
Through all the cold-hearted canards, the boys who created that wound in our hearts, or even through that night of anxiety before that big exam; we stuck together. In college, (unless you are involved in the Greek community) I think many would agree that it’s not easy to roll in packs of 15 to a party of the summer pool in college. You sort of just some how end up with those couple best friends who have now become your family. Those few people you trust and can actually rely on. With these few people I can be who I want to be, say what I want to say, and they will still love me. These few people put my negative characteristics in a positive light and instead of turning away from my flaws, we laugh about them. Together we push each other to be better people and remind each other each day that we have people in our lives that truly LOVE us.
It’s the moments when people look down upon our goofiness or “immaturity”, if that’s what you’d like to call it. It’s the moments when we can drive around Saturday night with mustaches drawn on our faces and then pulled over by the police, completely sober. It’s the moments we can sit together with our laptops in the living room and just laugh over nothing. It’s the moments we cry together and then the next minute we are peeing our pants. It’s the moments when outsiders will think we are completely wasted at the pool when we haven’t drunken a thing. It’s the moments when I get made fun of for my compulsive cleaning or how I tend to talk to myself too often. It’s the moments when Kristine gets made fun of for falling asleep everywhere or her contrastingly sense of fashion. It’s the moments when Paige get’s called out when she is too blunt or when her quirky personality suddenly becomes to make others feel incredibly uncomfortable. No matter what the flaw, together we love every bit of it. Together we know who we are and that’s all we really need. I am so blessed for my friends, thank you for everything and I love you all.
This "Facebook Note" was done during a history class my sophomore year in college:
Date: March 11, 2010
"Now these three remain: Faith, Hope, and Love. But the greatest of these is love" -Just a random entry.
- While I was sitting in my history class trying to understand the words from the professor's mouth, I decided to give up and go on Facebook. I decided to go to “My Notes” page and re-read a note that I wrote last year around this very time during Spring Break. It was titled “I've Learned ..” and within this note was random sentences I listed off in my head about what I supposedly “had learned” during my first year in college.
Recently I have read a lot of these “Notes” written by some of my best friends from high school. Every time I read them I feel that more inspired and impressed by how well they can type those unique thoughts onto a social networking site. Each of these “Notes” has clearly not been forged from an article of “Cosmopolitan”. Each note was so real and honest, something I use to love about myself.
Now I am not saying I am no longer a real or honest person, but I definitely no longer express these real and honest feelings on paper like I use to. I have always had a personal journal. I even had one of those egotistic blogs such as “Live journal” once in my life. Never once did I feel like I shouldn’t have had been writing all those stupid, crazy, over-dramatic, happy, sad, and even childish feelings. It didn’t matter what I wrote because with every word I wrote, it helped me understand growing up just a tiny bit more. Whether learning was large or small, writing and discussing feelings has always been my release and a part of who I was. Of course I’ve been called “too-deep” with my writings but looking back now, I feel as if that had made me a pretty damn brave person to actually “feel” something, and then be able to record it on paper. This year, through meeting new people, different relationships, and observing others actions I have become closed and afraid to write.
I have discovered that people love to play the “I don’t give a ****” game over and over AND over again. It is apparently “cool” to be a closed door and act like you don’t care the slightest bit.
Good idea, right? This way if no one knows how you feel, then maybe over time you just won’t be able to feel anything anymore?
Now that I am done with the sarcasm, I am proud to say that I have finally come to peace that I will always be a caring person who doesn’t mind expressing exactly how I feel. I think I have recently found a confidence, place, and friends who seem to enjoy this quality and understand that it is a part of me- that makes me, me!
This probably seems like a random note, but it was something I needed to get off my chest and wanted to feel what it was like to write just as I use to. The purpose of this note is to tell you that you should never EVER let anyone make you feel foolish or moronic for expressing how you feel and that LOVE- really IS the greatest of all.
_______________________________________________________________________
:: What I love about free writing like this is that it was completely from my heart. I know that I will be a great teacher because I love what I will be teaching. I was not sure if I wanted to display such emotions on my narrative, but I'm no longer afraid of this. By sharing my writing to the world, there has got to be at least ONE person who can relate, and this is why I love writing.
Here is an example of these "random writings" I tend to have:
(Beware, this was only a free write)
___________________________________________________________________
Date: April. 12, 2012
- I am not entirely sure what or where these feelings came from. Perhaps it is the overwhelming planning of my last year in college. Learning about these wonderful writers like Beckett and Wilde has inspired me to write, but it’s starting to cause my thoughts to race. Maybe I’d feel better if all these d*mn writers didn’t end up dying alone or spend their days isolated with their pencils. Scares me a bit, makes me question, what is a good writer? Is it all the constant observations I have, all these questions of uncertainty that drive one mad into a timeless art of literature? This year, I feel as if I’ve come to a sense of happiness and am more inspired to make my dreams come true. However, this whole teaching job is freaking the sh*t out of me. Seeing my dad burnt out of teaching drives me insane. My job, I promise, I will be in love with it. I won’t accept a burnt out job. I am starting to realize I need to stop contemplating my choice I’ve made. The point to this jabble is that all these inspirations to write are making my mind blow in pieces. Today, I literally felt my heart drop like the Power Tower and did it feel terrible! I had a realization going through my middle school “notes” between my friends and I. I realized that a huge part of my life is over with. Reading how people influenced my decisions, my self-esteem, and my friends made me want to laugh and slap myself all at the same time. To an average person, all those copies of AIM conversations & those dreadful gossip notes look like just a pile of stupid memories. I see all those memories as evidence of my development. I see the antecedent that created my behavior and today, I am living proof of each of my choices consequences.
Reading these memories made me realize, I have forgotten so many of them. As I grow older and look back at me being 22 years old, I don’t have anything saved except for Facebook photos. As I’ve become much more confident, I rarely show my emotions on social networking sites because I don’t need feedback on how I feel. I no longer need reassurance that I am making the right decisions, I love me. I don’t have notes written that emphasizes exactly the feeling I had at that exact moment. This is why I love writing, you can actually feel emotions by reading a person's writing. I am frightened that if I’ve forgotten so many memories from middle school, what will I possibly remember from today?
I don’t want to ever forget about these disgusting, stressful, glorious days. Perhaps it is the pressure of earning money like my dad, being truly happy, and following my dreams all at the same time that is scaring me? I feel like I’m running out of time at 22 years old. Help!
________________________________________________________________________________________________
This is another free write I wrote on "Facebook Notes" during the summer:
Date: Tuesday, May. 25, 2010
- If there is one thing I can name on the top of my head ithat has remained 110% loyal and faithful in my life it has been my friends and of course my family. Even though those best friends from Rochester High may go to another university far away, I know that there are multiple people from those deranged 4 years that I could call on in need of help. College is a really different experience, for there aren’t “the popular” kids, nor the outcast. Everyone is basically just looking out for himself or herself, which at times creates people to be incredibly egoistic. Of course you will always have stereotypes, but college really forces you to start new and find yourself. I can’t speak for all high schools but I know that at Rochester High I found many wonderful friendships.
Even though the too much of our time was spent with clicks disagreeing with other clicks or letting our immaturity to cause students to become defeatist towards different clubs or sports even within Rochester High (Yes, one of these was the dance team vs. cheer team rivalry). Today I laugh over these things because today (at least I hope others feel the same) I can talk about our stupid drama to even those on the opposing side and we both can laugh and agree that all along we were so blinded. Those sleepovers at the Morrison's house or hotel parties. The times of creating havoc in Rochester High's hallways such as "White Out", "300", or the pillow fight that was unsuccessful yet worth every moment. That Spring Break that had some of us on our death bed. And even through the guys talking behind other “crews” backs and dissin on other peoples “steez” there is ONE thing that the Class of 2008 had in common; those 4 years we grew up TOGETHER. Those 4 years were shared with amazing people and I wouldn’t EVER take back any memory. Now I stand today saying that I am very lucky to say that I have met a couple of girls that I can truly say, “define” my college years.
Through all the cold-hearted canards, the boys who created that wound in our hearts, or even through that night of anxiety before that big exam; we stuck together. In college, (unless you are involved in the Greek community) I think many would agree that it’s not easy to roll in packs of 15 to a party of the summer pool in college. You sort of just some how end up with those couple best friends who have now become your family. Those few people you trust and can actually rely on. With these few people I can be who I want to be, say what I want to say, and they will still love me. These few people put my negative characteristics in a positive light and instead of turning away from my flaws, we laugh about them. Together we push each other to be better people and remind each other each day that we have people in our lives that truly LOVE us.
It’s the moments when people look down upon our goofiness or “immaturity”, if that’s what you’d like to call it. It’s the moments when we can drive around Saturday night with mustaches drawn on our faces and then pulled over by the police, completely sober. It’s the moments we can sit together with our laptops in the living room and just laugh over nothing. It’s the moments we cry together and then the next minute we are peeing our pants. It’s the moments when outsiders will think we are completely wasted at the pool when we haven’t drunken a thing. It’s the moments when I get made fun of for my compulsive cleaning or how I tend to talk to myself too often. It’s the moments when Kristine gets made fun of for falling asleep everywhere or her contrastingly sense of fashion. It’s the moments when Paige get’s called out when she is too blunt or when her quirky personality suddenly becomes to make others feel incredibly uncomfortable. No matter what the flaw, together we love every bit of it. Together we know who we are and that’s all we really need. I am so blessed for my friends, thank you for everything and I love you all.
This "Facebook Note" was done during a history class my sophomore year in college:
Date: March 11, 2010
"Now these three remain: Faith, Hope, and Love. But the greatest of these is love" -Just a random entry.
- While I was sitting in my history class trying to understand the words from the professor's mouth, I decided to give up and go on Facebook. I decided to go to “My Notes” page and re-read a note that I wrote last year around this very time during Spring Break. It was titled “I
Recently I have read a lot of these “Notes” written by some of my best friends from high school. Every time I read them I feel that more inspired and impressed by how well they can type those unique thoughts onto a social networking site. Each of these “Notes” has clearly not been forged from an article of “Cosmopolitan”. Each note was so real and honest, something I use to love about myself.
Now I am not saying I am no longer a real or honest person, but I definitely no longer express these real and honest feelings on paper like I use to. I have always had a personal journal. I even had one of those egotistic blogs such as “Live journal” once in my life. Never once did I feel like I shouldn’t have had been writing all those stupid, crazy, over-dramatic, happy, sad, and even childish feelings. It didn’t matter what I wrote because with every word I wrote, it helped me understand growing up just a tiny bit more. Whether learning was large or small, writing and discussing feelings has always been my release and a part of who I was. Of course I’ve been called “too-deep” with my writings but looking back now, I feel as if that had made me a pretty damn brave person to actually “feel” something, and then be able to record it on paper. This year, through meeting new people, different relationships, and observing others actions I have become closed and afraid to write.
I have discovered that people love to play the “I don’t give a ****” game over and over AND over again. It is apparently “cool” to be a closed door and act like you don’t care the slightest bit.
Good idea, right? This way if no one knows how you feel, then maybe over time you just won’t be able to feel anything anymore?
Now that I am done with the sarcasm, I am proud to say that I have finally come to peace that I will always be a caring person who doesn’t mind expressing exactly how I feel. I think I have recently found a confidence, place, and friends who seem to enjoy this quality and understand that it is a part of me- that makes me, me!
This probably seems like a random note, but it was something I needed to get off my chest and wanted to feel what it was like to write just as I use to. The purpose of this note is to tell you that you should never EVER let anyone make you feel foolish or moronic for expressing how you feel and that LOVE- really IS the greatest of all.
_______________________________________________________________________
:: What I love about free writing like this is that it was completely from my heart. I know that I will be a great teacher because I love what I will be teaching. I was not sure if I wanted to display such emotions on my narrative, but I'm no longer afraid of this. By sharing my writing to the world, there has got to be at least ONE person who can relate, and this is why I love writing.