I wrote some things today.

Today I had my final for my writing class, because BYU requires that there is a comprehensive final. So we had one.
It consisted of Riley (who is the student manager of the Cougareat (pronounced coo-gar-ee-at :) bringing us a 4.5 foot sub from subway, Bria dressing like a goth (Manson makeup and all) to get an extension on her papers, and all of us just kind of sitting there and talking about stuff. Since Kerry was required to actually give a final, she told us to get out a piece of paper and write for 45 minutes about writing and our futures. I think she made up the prompt on the spot, and said we just had to keep writing. We kind of talked the whole time, so I only got a page and a half down. After 30 minutes, she said, "okay, I'm bored. You can stop writing now. You've all got full credit. I don't want them so take them with you."
This is what I wrote.

I could be a smart-alec and say, well, I'm an English major. Writing is all that I do, but I won't, because I'm far too polite in normal society, and you're technically my professor.
Seriously, though, writing is my life. To help you understand my future, you must understand my past. I had my first short story published when I was in third grade. It was a story about a detective investigating a robbery, looking for the thief who had a very strange name and a very long nose, Cyrano de Bergerac style, though I didn't know who he was at the time.
When I was a freshman in high school, my two friends and I created an essay contest, held every other week, in which one of us would be the judge and the other two would write essays on a topic of their choice. The judge would then choose the better of the two essays, the loser would write again next week, and the winner would be the next judge. The most memorable contest we had was the one in which I wrote against my crazy friend who had just decided to become a Vegan. Guess what we wrote on? You got it, veganism. She wrote for, I wrote against. My friend that was taking a turn as judge was gung-ho for the Bible, so I quoted the Bible. I was the judge the next week.
When I was a sophomore, I discovered poetry. My teacher made us write in all kinds of styles, but I hated most of them. Especially science writing. So I wrote poetry. Free verse, on my own, but I used to get bored in class and alternate between writing Spencerian and Shakespearean sonnets. It was beautiful.
So now I'm an English major. I was almost a music major at Eastman and Rochester (I even visited the schools) or a history major at Wellesley (they wait-listed me there) but I was too absorbed in prices. I couldn't afford either. So I came here, and I turned my hobby into my career. I am an English major.
I want to be an editor. I want to go into publishing and be able to critique people's writings, all the while learning how to improve my own. I don't know if I'll write anything to be published. I've tried to write a real story so many times but never gotten past the third chapter. There are shelves of notebooks hidden in the nook in my old closet in my parents' house, that will never again see the light of day.
I don't know. Maybe I'll strike it big. But no matter whether I'm published or not, I will never stop writing. It is my life.

I wrote some other deep things today in my writing journal that maybe I'll include later. Either way, I'm beginning to think now that I'm some sort of masochist. It's sick. I mean, who volunteers to stay in school for yet another semester? And work the breakfast shift every morning at 6:30, at that! I swore when I graduated from high school that I would never, ever again start anything before nine, and here I am waking up at 5:30 every morning. I'm going to die.

You know what else I've noticed? My handwriting looks like tiny black squiggly lines on paper. It's tiny. Absolutely tiny. I can't believe that anyone but me could ever be able to read it.