There are writers. There are bloggers. Annnnd then, there is me. I once considered myself someone that might be able to compete in the world of blogging...That is until I realized that I don't blog so much as keep an electronic diary of my drunken ramblings and distraught musings. There was also a time I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could create the great American novel using my experiences and struggles. Now I know different.
When life was good, I thought it was horrible. All the arguments and the cheating and the confusion made me a better writer. The things that I put on paper during that whole tumultuous affair were better than anything I can create now. Regardless of how I try, I simply can't come up with that kind of dramatic literature.
Which leads me to my next thought, if I cannot come up with even a short story decent enough to post, what makes me think I can compose 25 pages of prose for my writing sample? I can't, but what other option do I have? Law school is too expensive. If I take out thousands of dollars of student loans for law school, there is still no guarantee that I will have a job. With my grades the way they are currently, I'd be lucky to get into University of Phoenix. (hardyharhar, I jest. Surely that pathetic excuse for higher education would take me...) Grad school, though so pretty and promising on paper, seems to be just out of reach. LSU's MFA program requires an undergrad GPA of 3.2...Sound simple, right? Not so much. Due to all the F's and D's from my first two semesters of college, I have to make a 4.0 each semester to even attain that GPA. I think that asking me to work 43-50 hours a week and maintain an A in each class is simply unreasonable. I am trying. I really am, but it seems so futile.
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