Because I am terribly daunted by the task of revising a terribly rough draft of a story for my creative writing class, I shall instead seek instant gratification through blogging. It will probably be about creative writing, hopes, and dreams, just like the title of this post implies.
I am in the Science Library, my new favorite place on campus due to its wild level of quiet and peaceful lighting. It makes me feel like a college student studying, like how college students look in movies, which is cool, and all of the books here are on crazy things like astromicrobioticisms.
Clearly, I have yet to break into Oberlin's Natural Science requirements. That is fine, though, because I have been feeling tentatively hopeful lately about the creative writing program, which has made me feel both ambitious and intimidated since I learned more about it as a prospie. People's opinions about it on campus seem somewhat polarized based on whether or not the person was accepted. As you may or may not know, you have to apply for classes past the 100-level, and can only declare a major after completing a 300-level course. I'm starting to see though that a lot of it is based on integrity - if you really love writing and take it seriously, and take advantage of the wonderful faculty, then you could very well make it to the golden realm of major-hood.
I am currently chugging up the mountain of the 201 course, about to apply for the 300-level single genre workshops (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), and hoping that somehow the creative writing program will make me as cool as the current seniors (that sounds really dorky and underclassman-like, but whatever).
The other day I met again with my advisor, who as usual filled me with bubbling hope and excitement. Whatever your academic ambitions, it is so so wonderful to have an advisor in that department. Actually, just having good relationships with your professors can totally change the way you experience school. They are probably the only adult figures you will see regularly, which becomes pretty important in this concentrated land of 18-22 year olds. They can be like those really inspiring and smart obscure relatives you always wished you had. Essentially, they're just great.
Well, having spent about an hour now talking about creative writing, I think I will actually do some. The thought of reworking this story makes me think of crewing for Pyle's chocolate-themed dinner last Saturday - it was terrifying and delicious and eventually it got done. So will this story. Word.
